


Quicksand

by heartsmadeofbooks



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Barista Kurt Hummel, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Drama, Family Drama, Family Feels, M/M, Mentions of Finn's Death, Nanny Kurt Hummel, Romance, Teacher Blaine Anderson, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 124,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsmadeofbooks/pseuds/heartsmadeofbooks
Summary: Something as simple as a phone call can change your life forever. When sudden tragedy strikes, NYU professor Blaine Anderson needs to learn how to move forward and not let the weight of the world crush him to pieces. But comfort can come from the most unexpected people, and even from one of his own students, Kurt Hummel, who may need some comfort of his own.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson & Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Friday!  
> And here's the last one. I made it through all my fics just in time for the new one to start tomorrow (there's a preview on my Tumblr and Twitter, if you want to check it out!).  
> Quicksand is probably the one I hold dearest because it means a lot to me, personally. I poured a lot of what I was feeling at the time (2017/2018) into this story, and it was incredibly cathartic and therapeutic. So, if you haven't read it, I hope you'll enjoy it. And if you have, I'm glad you're back for another reread :)  
> Like the last story I posted, this one was also written without the help of a beta, so I'm sorry for any mistakes you might find.  
> See you tomorrow for a new adventure! ♥

When the phone rings after midnight, it can never be good news.

As he stared at his bed covered in clothes and the empty suitcase open on the floor, Blaine Anderson groaned in exasperation. Why had he put off packing until the last possible minute? His flight left at seven in the morning, and he still had no idea what to throw into the suitcase. And, as the red numbers on his alarm clock told him, he only had about five hours to figure it out.

It was a hot night in New York City. His bedroom window was open to let in the soft breeze. Blaine felt suddenly tempted to put whatever was closest to him in the suitcase and go to bed. But this was the first big vacation he was going to go on in a very long time. He didn't want to ruin it just because he forgot to pack enough underwear, or proper footwear, or extra shirts.

With a deep sigh, he went through all his options again. He picked a few outfits he really liked, and a few essentials. Then he moved on to the shoes, before going back to the clothes to discard a hoodie and a jacket he _knew_ he wouldn't wear.

His phone buzzed with a text. He smiled when he saw it was from Jason, who would be coming along with him on this trip. Jason, who he had been seeing for the past few months. They weren't exactly dating, but Blaine hoped this trip would end up in a real relationship. He liked Jason: he wasn't sure if he was _The One_ , but that didn't mean Blaine didn't want to be with him long enough to find out.

_From: Jason_

_Am I the only one who completely procrastinated packing or…?_

Blaine grinned as he took a picture of the mess that was his bed and sent it to him. _Nope_ , he simply replied, and went back to work. He held a pair of beige capri pants and some yellow shorts up, trying to decide if they were worth bringing along. It was the first time he would be going to Greece, but he could picture himself wearing both while walking down the streets of Mykonos, with the sea breeze in his hair, Jason's hand in his, and his yellow shorts. Everything sounded… quaint.

Besides the prospect of getting a boyfriend - his life had been quite deserted on that front for the last couple of years -, Blaine was also looking forward to laying on a beach under the blazing sun for hours on end without a single care in the world. His work schedule for the past year had been demanding, to say the least.

Teaching hadn't been his first choice of profession when he was a kid, but now he couldn't imagine doing anything else. When he started college, he decided to take an English class, and everything had fell into place then. He took another English class the semester after that, and before he knew it, he had found a major he was passionate about, and realized he wanted to talk about literature for the rest of his life. Now, he was part of the English department on NYU, and though he loved teaching, he was glad he didn't have any papers to grade for a few more weeks.

At least this year he hadn't made the mistake of teaching an online summer class.

He pulled open the drawer on his nightstand, looking for his spare phone charger. Nestled next to the charger, there were a new box of condoms and a bottle of lube. He grabbed all three and threw them into the suitcase, just as his phone buzzed again, this time more insistently, signaling a call.

He didn't bother checking the ID: who else would call so late at night?

"You'd better be packing those black skinny jeans you wore on our first date…" Blaine said with a laugh.

"Mr. Anderson?" A voice said on the other end, making him pause. It was a woman, instead of Jason.

"I… yes?" He said, confused.

"I'm calling you from the Presbyterian…"

"The hospital?" He interrupted, as he sat on the edge of his bed, frowning.

"Yes, sir," she confirmed. "I'm calling you because you're Cooper Anderson's emergency contact…"

"Yes, that's my brother," he muttered, as he grabbed the phone tighter. He suddenly couldn't breathe. "What's going on?"

"I'm afraid your brother was in a car accident."

Blaine chocked. He felt his chest constricting in anguish at those words. "Is he…?"

"It doesn't look good, Mr. Anderson. His wife and baby were in the car with him as well. She died on the scene. I'm very sorry, but I think you should come."

Blaine felt as if his head was being held underwater. He wanted to breathe, but every time he tried, it seemed to hurt him more, to drown him. He could hear what she was saying, but every word felt distant. It was as if she was screaming them across a large lake, and no matter how much Blaine struggled to hear her, part of her message got lost in the wind.

This couldn't be happening. He had talked to Cooper a few hours ago. His brother had called to make sure he had all the details for Blaine's flight, to give him advice like he was still a kid, and to tell him to have fun. He had asked Blaine to call him as soon as he arrived in Greece. He told him to get him one of those "My brother was in Greece and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" shirts.

Cooper wasn't dying. His wife wasn't dead. And the baby… oh god, what did she say about the baby?

Blaine didn't realize he had let go of the phone. It was all scattered on the floor, the battery under the bed, the screen cracked in the corner where it had landed. He just knew he had to make it to the hospital. He had to be there. Cooper wasn't… Cooper would…

He moved without knowing how. First he was in his bedroom, then he was rushing down the stairs and out of the building, and then he was stealing a cab from a young couple, who screamed at him like he was insane. But he didn't hear them. He didn't care. All he knew was that Cooper needed him. His brother. His big brother.

Blaine got out of the cab before it had even stopped completely, throwing money at the driver without caring if he was paying enough or not for the ride. Once he was inside, he grabbed the first available nurse and begged her for help, his eyes wide and glistening with tears. Fortunately, she smiled gently and helped him. He wasn't sure what he would have done if she hadn't helped. He had no time to waste.

She guided him to a room, and a doctor was just leaving it as they made it there. Blaine went straight to him. He wanted to ask a million questions, but he didn't want to hear any of the answers. He was so afraid he thought he would collapse on the floor and shake uselessly until this was all over.

"I'm Blaine Anderson. Where's my brother?" He asked, looking at the doctor, almost pleading with him to give him good news. "Where is Cooper?"

But the doctor looked somber. "Mr. Anderson, I'm so sorry. He's just passed away…"

The doctor kept talking. He explained how a truck had lost control, how Cooper hadn't been able to stop the car from impacting against it. How Sara had died within seconds, and how Cooper had gotten the worst of the impact, almost getting crushed against the side of the car. How they had done everything they could, but still Cooper didn't make it.

His brother was dead.

"No," Blaine said. "No."

"I'm sorry, Mr. And…"

"No. My brother… no. He's not. You're wrong." Blaine turned around, away from this man who was lying. He was _lying_. "You're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong…"

He repeated the words. He screamed them. He covered his face with his hands and repeated the same words over and over and over, hoping they would come true. The doctor would be wrong. Blaine would walk into the room and find his brother sitting in a hospital bed. Cooper would be complaining about how uncomfortable the mattress was, or how bored he was already. Blaine would look into those blue eyes and find his brother smiling at him, the way he always smiled when he saw Blaine. Because until he had married Sara, Blaine had been his whole world. Then Sara had joined him, and then Max had dethroned them all…

_Max._

"Max," he said, regaining a last little vestige of clearness. "My nephew. The baby. Where is he?"

The doctor offered him a little smile, as if trying to be reassuring. "Miraculously, the baby made it out unscathed. He only has a scratch or two, but nothing serious, nothing to worry about." The doctor gestured for Blaine to follow him. "Come with me, I will take you to him."

The baby was crying himself raw when they arrived at the nursery, where a nurse was doing her best to calm him, to no avail. Max was red-faced, throwing his little fists in the air in protest, as if he knew. As if he knew he suddenly was completely alone in the world.

 _No_ , Blaine thought. _Not completely alone._

At four months old, Max was already sharp like a razor blade, and as soon as his blue eyes - _Cooper's eyes_ , Blaine couldn't help but think - settled on his uncle, he seemed to recognize him, and extended his little arms towards him, as if begging him to take him away from this nightmare.

Blaine grabbed him almost greedily, pressing him against his chest, needing to feel his warm little body, the beats of his little heart, the puffs of his breath. He kissed his forehead, doing his best to hold back his own tears.

"It's okay," he whispered, even though things were everything but. "It's okay, buddy. It's okay. I'm here. Uncle Blaine is right here."

The baby sniffled tiredly, snuggling against him, looking for comfort in the familiar embrace. Blaine looked at him, and it was as if he was looking at him for the very first time. His heart was broken, he was shocked beyond belief, and his arms were full with a baby who was suddenly an orphan.

One night, one second, and both of their lives were changed forever.

"I've got you," Blaine said, choking on his tears.

There was nothing else to do, but hold Max, and cry.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite how much his coworkers complained, Kurt Hummel actually loved the morning shift. Of course, the blaring of his alarm at five in the morning wasn't exactly pleasant. But he was so busy with the rush of early-risers in seek of their caffeine fix, that he barely noticed the hours, slipping through his fingers.

He had been lucky enough to find a job near campus, so he didn't have to cross the city to get from the coffee house to class. It was hard enough living in Bushwick and dealing with the commute every day. Kurt had found that the forty minutes it took him to get from his apartment to school or work were actually useful for catching up on his reading for class. He had to learn to be efficient with every minute of his day. And now he was on the lookout for a second job, he would have to squeeze every second as much as he could.

It hadn't been an easy summer for Kurt. Most of his classmates had been happy to have an excuse to go home and relax until the new semester started, but Kurt had spent most of his time worrying about his father's health. Burt Hummel was still as strong as he had always been, but his heart liked to play tricks on him and give him a scare every once in a while. He was out of the hospital and back home and under the care of Kurt's stepmother, Carole, but he'd needed surgery. Kurt had spent some terrifying nights lying in his childhood bedroom, waiting for the worst to happen. He had only breathed again when Burt was released from the hospital.

Before he returned to New York, Kurt had heard a whispered conversation. His parents were worried about the hospital bills that had been piling up those past few weeks. Until now, Kurt had lived a normal but pretty comfortable life. His father had never said no whenever he needed or truly wanted something. When Kurt had moved from Ohio to New York for school, Burt had told him that he would pay for rent and school. He wanted Kurt to only focus on getting good grades and living the life he had always wanted. Kurt had gotten the job at Starbucks anyway, because he wanted to be as independent as possible. Still, he appreciated his father's help, since life in New York was a lot more expensive that it had been in Lima. But now… how could he allow his father to keep paying for everything when he knew they were struggling? He didn't want to give him any more reasons to stress. He didn't want to be the reason his father would have to go back to the hospital.

So this semester, Kurt had two goals: passing all his classes with the highest possible grade, and finding a new job. He hoped the job could preferably be in the fashion world, where he belonged.

Kurt put on his apron. He was on the cash register this morning, instead of making the drinks. Knowing Sammi, his partner during his shift today, he would have to switch halfway through. She hated mixing the drinks, was too slow, preferred smiling at the customers as she took their orders, and letting the more complicated aspects of the interaction to Kurt. Kurt didn't mind, especially now: making coffee was a lot more demanding than most people thought. There was so much precision required in the drinks they made here. It was just what he needed to keep his head busy and his worry at bay.

He had a moment to glance at the city outside the coffee shop as Sammi unlocked the doors to allow the first customers of the day in. New York was just waking up, but already vibrant and so alive. Its concrete veins were always pumping, and Kurt had never felt like he belonged anywhere until he got here. Here, he was allowed to be whoever he wanted to be. He loved the freedom this city provided him with, the possibilities waiting for him in every corner. He never knew what the day would bring when he got out of bed in the morning.

He snapped out of it as the first weary business man made his way to the counter. Kurt plastered a big smile on his face to greet him and take his order. The smell of coffee brewing filled the store, as well as the delicious scent of the fresh baked goods. Kurt was suddenly optimistic. Yes, it had been a difficult summer, but it was the start of a new year.

There could be so many surprises coming his way.

* * *

Kurt opened the heavy, sliding door to his apartment, and was immediately greeted by Rachel's big smile.

"Hey! There you are! I was about to call you and see when you'd be home," she said from where she was sitting on the couch with her laptop.

Kurt grunted. "I spilled milk on my pants just before my shift was over, so I had to change, and I lost my train." He dropped his satchel on a chair and headed into his bedroom, hidden behind a curtain that worked as partition. "I need a shower. I feel disgusting."

"Okay," Rachel replied, getting up from the couch and stretching her arms over her head. "Would you like to have Chinese for dinner?"

Kurt grunted once again as he grabbed some clean clothes. "I have to cut back on take out. But you can get some for yourself and I'll make something with whatever's on the fridge."

Rachel peeked into the refrigerator and scrunched her nose. "So lettuce, one egg and something that's been here since before we left for Ohio, and I no longer can recognize?"

Kurt paused on his way to the bathroom and sighed in resignation. "Fine, one last Chinese food splurge. I'll go to the grocery store tomorrow and pick some things up. And please, just get rid of that thing. I don't even want to find out what it was."

Rachel removed a container from the fridge and studied it as she walked towards the trash bin. "It looks like it was leftover Thai, long ago."

Kurt made a disgusted face and then closed the bathroom door behind him.

There were many downsides to living in New York, one of them being the limited hot water for showers. Kurt had enjoyed plenty of long, almost decadent showers while he was in Ohio, and he missed those almost as much as he missed his family. But it was a small price to pay for living in a city he loved, so tried to stay positive.

Living in Bushwick meant it wasn't a good idea to go out for a walk after dark, but it also provided him and Rachel with the chance to live in a huge loft for a very affordable price. Sure, they almost had no privacy (the curtains were laughable when trying to contain, uhm… _noises_. Kurt still cringed when thinking back to last semester when Rachel had been in a relationship with a guy from school who just couldn't _shut up_ in bed), but it was better than nothing. And right now, with his current financial situation, Kurt couldn't even dream about living in Manhattan.

Once he was out of the shower, and while they waited for their dinner, Kurt sat on the couch with his computer. He went over his resumé, wondering how he could make it more appealing to fashion companies, magazines and… well, okay, basically _anyone_. If he had to pick up another job as a waiter in a restaurant or something along those lines, he would take it. But it didn't hurt looking at positions that could provide him with more meaningful experiences, related to the field he was interested in.

The problem was, most of the positions he could qualify for were unpaid internships. Had his circumstances been any different, he would have jumped at the chance. But unfortunately, as much as he would have loved to work at Vogue, he had other priorities.

Rachel must have noticed how worried he was. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "Hey. I'm sure you'll find a job that doesn't suck. Just hang in there. I know you want to help your dad, but stressing won't help either of you. I'm sure he doesn't want you to get sick over it."

Kurt sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I mean… I hate worrying about money. There are plenty of more important things to worry about."

"Just be patient," she said, as the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their food. She dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head as she headed for the door. "I have a feeling this will be your year."

Kurt put his laptop aside and got up to set the table. He desperately hoped this would be one of those times when Rachel would obnoxiously say _I told you so_.

* * *

Kurt had always been the kind of person who was convinced that he could do anything as long as he truly wanted it. Now, he was learning that jobs didn't exactly happen because you wanted them to.

Getting the position at Starbucks had been easy enough, but he wouldn't have minded if he had to go for a different job instead. In the end, he chose it above other offers because it paid better and his shifts were more flexible. Now, even though his standards weren't all that high, there was _nothing_.

After shooting an email to two of his professors, who always raved about his designs in class, they sent him back a list of internships that he would be perfect for. Kurt almost drooled while looking at the names on the list – Marc Jacobs? He would have actually committed murder to get to work there. Vogue was heaven on earth for people like him. Dior? It was a _dream_. They were also all unpaid internships.

"Well, but what if you go for one of those and if you work hard enough, maybe they'll give you something more stable in a few months?" Rachel suggested as she watched him pull at his hair in frustration.

"But I would have to cut back on my shifts at Starbucks for this. I would actually be _losing_ money, Rachel," he whined. "I can't do it."

Rachel simply patted him on the back in comfort. His dreams of the fashion world would have to wait.

Instead, he decided to focus on other areas. He sent his resumé to a few boutiques, walked across the entirety of Manhattan looking for _Help Wanted_ signs on restaurants and coffee houses, and gave Rachel a few copies of his resumé as well, with the tiny little hope that she might find something for him at the theatre where she was currently part of the ensemble of an off (off-off-off) Broadway production.

"Maybe they'll have something in the costume department!" She said in excitement. "Wouldn't that be awesome?"

Kurt agreed, but tried not to get his hopes up.

He got a few interviews. One of the boutiques he had applied to had an open position for a sales assistant, but his class schedule conflicted with the shifts. A restaurant called, but they offered a lot less than what he earned at Starbucks, and he would have to work until two in the morning, which didn't sound appealing since he had a few early morning classes this semester.

Nothing seemed to work. Whenever he got a call for an interview, Kurt thought this might be the one, but in the end, there was always something negative.

"Maybe I should lower my standards a bit more?" Kurt muttered, doubtful, as he stood in front of a Chinese restaurant with a _Help Wanted_ sign. It looked like the kind of place the Department of Sanitation would have a field day. Kurt was almost sure he saw a rat sneaking under the counter.

"Kurt, if you lower your standards even more, you'll end up working at a strip club," Rachel said, firmly steering him away from the restaurant. "You'll find something."

But Kurt was worried, and whatever was coming his way was taking its sweet time arriving.

* * *

Once the semester started, looking for a job seemed even harder. When Kurt learned of the workload for his classes, he wondered if he would have to just give up sleep altogether.

He tried to stay positive. It was just hard when bills were already piling up. He refused to call home and ask Carole for money. He knew she and his dad were already struggling with their own bills.

The first Thursday of the semester, Kurt arrived at his English class feeling jaded and worried. He sat on the first available seat he found and looked around to see if anyone he knew was here. He then simply wasted time on his phone as he waited for the professor to arrive.

Professor Anderson was one of his favorites. This was the second elective class he took with him, and he enjoyed the way Professor Anderson talked about literature like there was nothing more beautiful in the world to him than the written word. It had been a particularly special delight to hear him recite Shakespeare in old English in his smooth, clear voice. It also helped that Professor Anderson was probably the youngest in the English Department and he was very attractive too.

When Professor Anderson stepped into the classroom, however, Kurt was shocked. The youthful, charming man who had stood at the front of the class the past term was very far from the man who placed his satchel on the desk, looking like even that was a great effort. He was hunched, there were dark marks under his eyes, and Kurt honestly wondered if the shirt he was wearing was even clean. It looked wrinkled, too unkempt for someone who always looked his best.

"Good morning everyone," Professor Anderson said, and he sounded just as tired as he looked. "I see a few familiar faces, but for those who don't know me, I'm Professor Blaine Anderson, and this is Modern Lit. Please pass the syllabus around. We'll be discussing its contents and the work we'll be doing this semester."

Kurt looked down at the syllabus, handed to him by the guy in the row before him, who looked like he had just smoked a jungle worth of pot. The contents of the syllabus were interesting enough, but Kurt was actually a lot more interested in Professor Anderson.

Kurt wasn't proud to admit that he had looked for a ring on his finger when he'd had Professor Anderson the previous term. He knew the man wasn't married, but by the looks of it, Kurt was still pretty sure it had to have been a pretty bad break up.

It seemed it hadn't been only Kurt who had had a bad summer.

"… and my office hours are noted at the end of the document," Professor Anderson was saying when Kurt finally paid attention. "I'm also teaching a creative writing workshop this semester, and it's open to anyone who's interested in joining. If you have any questions about that, you can just email me and I'll send back all the info. Alright. Any questions so far?"

Pot Boy raised his hand. "I thought this was Philosophy 101?"

The class laughed collectively. Kurt rolled his eyes. Professor Anderson didn't even show any emotion.

"I'm afraid you're in the wrong class. Philosophy 101 is down the hallway," Professor Anderson replied patiently. Pot Boy hurried to gather his things and leave. "Any other questions?"

A giggling girl a few rows away from Kurt raised her hand. He rolled his eyes again ahead of time. She had been in his English class last semester and had spent most of it trying to flirt with Professor Anderson. "Did you have a nice summer, Professor?"

Kurt actually looked over his shoulder to glare at her. Was she blind? It was obvious the guy had had a shitty summer.

Professor Anderson cleared his throat. He was usually a very collected, very dapper kind of guy. He always had a smile on his face, encouraged questions saying there weren't any stupid ones, and was generally a lot more patient and nicer than Kurt ever would be.

Today, though, after a few very awkward seconds of absolute silence, he completely ignored the girl's question. He said: "The first thing on the syllabus is American modern literature. F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway are two of the most important writers in this era. Can someone tell me any other American modern writers?"

He launched into his lesson like he was clinging to it for dear life.

Kurt felt bad for the guy. It couldn't be easy to stand in front of so many people when your heart was broken and everyone could just see how vulnerable you were.

Despite the obvious sadness written all over his face, Professor Anderson delivered his class with the same professionalism as usual, though maybe with just a little bit disconnection. It was like his mind was elsewhere, far away from this crowded classroom in the middle of New York City. Wherever it was, it wasn't the happiest place.

Once the class was dismissed, Kurt tried to catch the professor's eyes. He knew there was nothing that could help a heartbreak, except for time and maybe a bowl of ice cream or two, but he felt Professor Anderson deserved at least an encouraging smile for a job well done. It probably hadn't been easy to get out of bed in the morning to face all these people. However, Professor Anderson quickly gathered his things and left the classroom, forgoing his usual habit of staying behind to chat with students who may have had some additional questions. Kurt saw him fish his phone out of his pocket as he walked out of the room, already dialing a number and pressing the phone to his ear.

Kurt really hoped Professor Anderson wasn't one of those men who left clingy, whiny messages on people's voicemails asking them to take him back.

Kurt grabbed his bag and left the classroom. Rachel was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall with two cups of coffee, her gaze lost somewhere down the hallway.

"You certainly are a sight for sore eyes," Kurt said with a sigh, making grabby hands for the coffee.

"You've had a few hard days. You deserve all the caffeine you can get," Rachel said, watching as Kurt downed a gulp of scalding coffee like a thirsty man in the desert. "Plus, I'm afraid I need to deliver some bad news, and the coffee seemed a nice way to appease the beast."

Kurt's coffee suddenly tasted like ashes in his mouth. "What is it?"

"The restaurant where you had that interview yesterday called. They hired someone else," Rachel replied, knowing it was best to just rip the Band-Aid. "And I talked to the people at the theatre. They're not looking to hire anyone right now."

Kurt took another sip of coffee, mostly so Rachel wouldn't see just how upset he was. He shrugged. "Well, I'm sure I'll find something else…" He commented, as lightly as he could, though feeling the weight on his shoulders increase by the second.

Rachel smiled at him brightly. "Of course. I'm sure we'll have some good news before the week is over." She laced her arm through his and they began to walk down the hallway. "Oh, hey, was that Professor Anderson? He looked like shit. He looked so handsome last semester…"

Kurt knew it wasn't nice of him to use other people's misery as a distraction. Still, gossiping about Professor Anderson's probable break-up was a lot less troubling than thinking of the stack of bills piling up on the kitchen table.

And there, in the back of his mind, he could see his father's tire shop, the business Burt Hummel had built with effort over the years and that was now in the hands of one of his oldest employees, because Burt wasn't allowed back at work yet. Maybe he would never be able to work on cars again.

And there, in the back of his mind, there was a rising fear: having to leave New York to work at the tire shop, to provide for his family; having to live in Ohio again, where he had never been able to find happiness; having to leave every dream he had ever had behind.

No, it wasn't nice to gossip, but it was better than driving himself crazy with the worry that he would have to give up everything he had worked so hard for.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a bad day.

Well, that wasn't a fair description. Every day for the past couple of months had been bad days. There had been worst days, though, when he could barely talk himself into getting out of bed, when he had no idea what to do and he just wanted to curl up in a corner of his room and rock back and forward until this whole thing disappeared. Today was not one of those days, but it still wasn't good. The heaviness in his chest was still there; the anguish, the grief, and the sudden responsibility that weighed too much were still there, too. This was not something he could screw up.

Blaine wondered how many more bad days there would be ahead.

It had been almost two months, and still Blaine woke up every morning praying to a God he didn't believe in that it had all been just a nightmare.

_Please, just let it be a nightmare._

And then the faint sound of crying came from the room next to his, and he knew no one was listening to his prayers.

* * *

The kitchen was a mess. The whole apartment seemed to have fallen into the center of a tsunami, and no matter how much Blaine tried, he still couldn't get rid of all the clutter. His notes for work got mixed with toys, pacifiers and cans of formula. It was an accurate, though still shocking representation of his life: Blaine couldn't find balance.

Max was sitting on a blanket on the floor, his big blue eyes turned towards his uncle as Blaine did his best to get ready for work. He was six months old now, and was suddenly discovering a whole new world, learning how to move by himself, how to throw things around the room to get his uncle's attention, how to spit the new food he wasn't pleased to be trying. A whole new world, and his parents weren't there to see it.

Blaine usually did his best not to think too much about it. He couldn't change the facts: Sara and Cooper were gone, and he was all Max had now. He would give his right arm for his nephew, his life, without a second's hesitation. But still, on some mornings, when nothing seemed to be falling into place and his own life seemed foreign to him, Blaine wished he could be anywhere else but here.

His work schedule was a mess as big as his kitchen. Last semester, it wouldn't even have fazed him, but right now, he had to fit babysitters into the mix and it was just not working. It didn't help that Max seemed to be going through a phase where he didn't trust anyone: he pretty much cried with every single person who tried to hold him, except for Blaine and, sometimes, if he was in the mood, Blaine's best friend Sam, who came over to help him whenever he had a chance.

Blaine had spent the past two months reading every single parenting book he had come across, but it still didn't change the fact that he would never be able to do this as perfectly as Sara and Cooper had.

Max threw a blue car across the room, hitting the oven door with it. Blaine looked down at him.

"I know, buddy," he said, because he felt like throwing things around the room a lot too, lately.

He retrieved the car, a tired look on his face, just as Max threw a red one in the opposite direction.

It, too, felt like an accurate representation of his life: whenever it felt like he was done picking up the mess, something else began to fall apart.

* * *

"You look like shit."

Blaine sighed, trying to hold on to the very little patience he had left, and took a bite of the sandwich he had brought from home. He'd forgotten to put the chicken salad on it, in the rush to change Max's diaper and get ready for work in time. So he was basically eating dry bread and lettuce. He put it aside after the one bite and reached for his cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Sam," he said. "You've been saying that every day for a couple of weeks now."

"Yeah, so when are you going to do something about it?" Sam asked, leaning across the table to look at him more closely.

"The beginning of the semester is always hard," Blaine said with a shrug. "You know that as well as I do."

"And yet I don't look like a zombie," Sam said, and raised his hands in defense when Blaine threw a murderous look his way. "Hey. You know I'm just saying this because you're my friend and I love you. I'm here to help you as much as I can. So, is Max not letting you sleep? Or what is it?"

Blaine leaned back on his chair. He was too tired to even try to ignore Sam's questions. "Max is fine, I guess. He wakes up in the night sometimes, but it's not as bad anymore. I'm just… worn out."

"I could babysit for you sometime this week so you can catch up on some sleep…" Sam offered, and Blaine smiled at him, though he knew it didn't reach his eyes. All the smiles felt wrong on his face lately.

"Thanks, Sam, but I don't think this is something that can go away with a nap," Blaine replied. He took a sip of coffee. It was a little cold but it tasted like glory to him. "I'm overwhelmed. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm worried I'm screwing everything up."

"I know," Sam clasped a gentle hand on his shoulder in comfort. "But you're doing great. Max is a happy little guy. He always smiles when you come into the room."

"I'm not his dad," Blaine muttered quietly.

Sam watched him, concern written in his light eyes. "Blaine…"

Blaine pushed his chair back. God, he didn't want to talk about this now. What was the point in discussing things he would never be able to change? "I have to go. My next class is in ten minutes and I need to cross half of campus to get there. See you later."

Sam didn't call after him, but Blaine could feel his gaze etched to his back as he walked away. He appreciated the concern, but he couldn't deal with it right now.

* * *

A year ago, Blaine's Sundays were completely different. Being a single young man in New York City, Saturday nights had been always busy for him: going out on dates, drinking a beer with a friend or two at one of his favorite bars, going out dancing when he needed to blow off some steam, and even taking a guy home at the end of the night when the dancing hadn't been enough. Then on Sunday mornings he would usually sleep in, take his time to get out of bed, stretching his arms over his head and feeling his muscles pop pleasantly. He would get out of bed and make some coffee, drink it outside in the balcony if the weather was nice, or sit on the couch with a cozy blanket and a book if it was cold. Later, he would go out for a walk, have lunch somewhere nice, and maybe go to a game with Sam. The day usually ended with a dinner at Cooper's: he would bring the wine, Sarah would cook something amazing, and after dinner he and Cooper would walk together to get desert at their favorite bakery if they were in the mood for pie, or at the ice cream parlor near the park if it was a warm night. As they walked, they usually talked about their troubles, about their worries, about their joys. Blaine had always felt like those ten minute walks with his brother gave him a deeper understanding of the man he was than the thirty years he had known him.

He had loved his weekends. He had loved the freedom of being a single man in a big city. He had loved sharing time with his family and friends.

Today, however, he could barely remember how amazing those days felt.

It wasn't just that the responsibility of raising a human being that suddenly rested on his shoulders. He _missed_ Cooper. Missing him was a sort of permanent ache he could never get rid of, no matter how much he tried. There was a hole deep inside his chest, and he couldn't fill it.

It was still warm. Summer seemed to be clinging to the air, not ready to let go and make way for fall. Blaine had taken Max to Central Park, and the baby sat in his stroller, watching the people around him with a quiet interest. Blaine sipped coffee from a travel mug, a book opened on his lap, but almost completely forgotten as he, too, people-watched.

"He's so cute," a voice said, and he was startled as he discovered someone had sat next to him on the bench. It was a woman, probably around his own age, smiling at him gently and looking at Max like he was the most marvelous thing she had ever seen. "How old is he?"

"Six months," Blaine answered.

"He looks so much like you!" She said, an obviously flirty tone on her voice, "I bet your wife is over the moon."

Blaine sighed. If it had been a different circumstance, he would have been flattered, and probably would have felt a little awkward having to reject her. Now, he felt numb. He felt nothing. "He's my nephew. And I'm gay."

"Oh!" She exclaimed, clearly uncomfortable. "That's great! I mean, I'm…"

She was interrupted by Max, who suddenly started bawling as if his life depended on it. Blaine had never felt so grateful to hear his nephew cry before. He put down the coffee cup on the bench and leaned in to grab the baby, and started bouncing him on his knees.

"Hey buddy, it's fine. Are you hungry?" Blaine asked in a soft voice.

By the time Max stopped crying, the woman was gone, and Blaine was all alone.

* * *

Blaine thought often about the funeral. He remembered the caskets being lowered into the ground, and the warm weight of Max in his arms. He remembered the sound of people crying next to him, the feeling of people's pats on the back, the words the priest said as he tried to console the family and friends of those who were now gone.

He thought about his parents. His relationship with them had always been difficult. It had been pretty cold since he had graduated high school and moved out of the family house. Cooper had always taken his side, gaining him the same distant treatment his brother usually got. They were suddenly not invited to Christmas dinners or birthday parties, and their parents rarely visited them in New York. Blaine had been okay with it – he'd known it was the price to pay to be himself since he was fourteen years old. He felt bad for Cooper, but was so immensely grateful for his brother's support.

When Hugh and Andrea Anderson had arrived at the funeral, Blaine had felt suffocated. The grief was already heavy, but he knew nothing good could come from his parents being there.

At the small reception afterwards, Blaine did his best not to collapse: he had been awake for over 48 hours since he had received the call from the hospital. He was as polite as he could with everyone, especially with Sarah's family, which had always been nice to him. Sam was there for him the whole time, making sure he had something to eat and drink, and taking the baby out of his arms when he needed some space.

He was heading to the kitchen to heat up Max's bottle when he heard his mother's voice. It froze him to the spot.

"… of course, we'll be taking Max home with us to Ohio," she was saying. "This is no place for a baby. Blaine has no idea what he's doing."

He could feel his heart pick up speed in his chest. His sight was suddenly filled with little red spots. Before he knew what he was doing, Blaine was turning on his heels and heading straight towards his parents.

Andrea Anderson stopped talking as soon as she caught sight of her son. Her face became sour – as if she couldn't even stand the sight of him. Blaine felt sick. This was all too much.

"If you even think about taking that kid away from me, you will be hearing from my lawyer," Blaine said, as his ire made him shake. "And if you can't respect Cooper's wishes today of all days, then I think you should go."

"Blaine, we all know…" his father started saying, but Blaine was having none of it.

"We all know I'm Max's guardian. Cooper and Sarah chose me. Max knows me, I see him every week, and I love him. When is the last time you even bothered to call and ask how your grandson was? And now you come here, acting like you don't even care that your son is dead, and all you do is talk about how you're taking the baby with you? Who the hell do you think you are?" Blaine exploded. Sam appeared at his side, placing a calming hand on his shoulder, that Blaine brushed away. "You couldn't even be parents to your own two children, what makes you think you'd be any better with Max?"

 _Blaine has no idea what he's doing._ Sometimes Blaine lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling and remembering that scene. He thought of how difficult everything was, and of how different everything could have been if his parents had taken Max with them. If he had let them win. If he had admitted that he didn't, in fact, have any idea what the hell he was doing.

And that thought filled him with disappointment. What was he even thinking? He wouldn't have condemned Max like that. It didn't matter how hard everything was now. Max was where he was supposed to be. Just knowing that kept him going for another week.

* * *

Kurt was on cash register duty when Professor Anderson crossed the door into the coffee shop on a Monday morning. It was a surprisingly slow morning, so Kurt was leaning on the counter with his chin on his hand, and thinking about an assignment due later that week. He heard the little bell above the door and forced himself to look cheerful, only to find that he knew the man who was now walking towards him.

"Professor Anderson!" He exclaimed, surprised. "Good morning!"

Professor Anderson blinked at him like he couldn't understand the words coming out of Kurt's mouth. Once again, he looked like shit, like he hadn't slept in months. Kurt felt bad for him.

"I'm Kurt Hummel, I'm in one of your classes…" He said.

"Oh! Right, Kurt. You're in my Modern Literature class," Professor Anderson nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I imagine you have way too many students to remember all of them," Kurt tried to laugh it off, but he felt awkward, for some reason. "What can I get you?"

"Give me the strongest coffee you have, please," he said, as he fished for his wallet inside his bag.

Impulsively, Kurt said, "Oh, no, please. It's on the house."

"Kurt, I couldn't…" He murmured.

"Please. You look like you need it, and you might remember my kindness if I fail to meet a deadline at some point this semester," Kurt said cheekily.

Professor Anderson must have seen the determination on Kurt's face, because he sighed and put his wallet back in his bag. "It's very nice of you. I appreciate it."

Sammi had suddenly disappeared, probably to sneak out the back for a smoke, so since there were no other customers, Kurt moved down the counter to make Professor Anderson's drink. He grabbed the largest cup and got to work, unexpectedly aware of the man's eyes on him.

"I had no idea you worked here," Professor Anderson commented, probably to fill the silence.

"Yup, for a couple of years now," Kurt said. He grabbed a lid for the cup. "Do you come here often?"

 _Oh my god, that sounds like_ such _a line_.

"Not really." Professor Anderson said.

There was an awkward silence.

Kurt slid the coffee towards him across the counter. Their eyes met. He had never realized Professor Anderson had such lovely eyes, with little specks of gold around the iris. "Here you are. I hope it does the trick."

Professor Anderson smiled at him. "Thank you so much. I guess I'll see you in class?"

"I'll see you in class!" Kurt confirmed, and watched as the other man walked towards the door.

He had to force himself to look away and go back to work. There was something about Professor Anderson that was certainly intriguing.

* * *

Blaine looked over his shoulder as he left the coffee shop. Kurt Hummel was wiping the counter with a white rag, his lips pursed as if he was whistling a tune. Blaine took a sip of his cup, the shot of caffeine immediately travelling though him and waking his senses.

He smiled. This unexpected little kindness had been just what he needed. Now he felt slightly more ready to face yet another week.

Blaine made his way to campus, the dark thoughts from the night before forgotten, his heart a little lighter, and the warmth of the cup of coffee in his hand spreading all over him.

Today had the potential to be a good day, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine was spreading some raspberry jam on a piece of toast when his phone went off. It was charging on the kitchen counter, so he pushed his chair back and stood up to grab it before the call cut off, making sure not to step on any of Max's toys currently laying all around the floor.

"Good morning, Layla!" He said when he picked up, after checking the caller ID. "Are you on your way?"

Layla had been Max's babysitter for the past month. She was a young girl in her first year of college who had seemed eager to get the job. She had absolutely no experience with kids, but Max had seemed to like her. And Blaine had been pretty desperate. So far, he hadn't come home to any boyfriends on the couch or the smell of smoke in the bathroom, so he couldn't exactly complain.

"Good morning, Mr. A!" She exclaimed in a joyful little voice. "I was actually calling to let you know I can't babysit Max today."

Blaine almost said a few words that should be nowhere near his baby nephew's ears. "What? Why?"

"I completely forgot I have study group with some people from my Econ class. I know it's last minute, but we have to work on a project that's due next week and we have absolutely nothing done yet."

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment. She was a young girl. He had to remain polite no matter how frustrated he suddenly felt. "Layla, we talked about this. You need to let me know in advance when you can't take care of Max. I have a staff meeting in an hour."

"I'm sorry, Mr. A! I truly forgot!" She said, and she sounded sincerely apologetic.

There was nothing Blaine could do. He sighed. "Okay. We're still on for Thursday, right?"

"Yes, Thursday is fine," she assured him.

After saying goodbye, Blaine put the phone down and grabbed his cup of coffee, taking a sip while he thought. He didn't have many options.

He called one of Sarah's friends. She had been really nice to him at the funeral and offered several times to babysit for him if he needed it. So far he hadn't called her once, but he hoped she could save him today.

"Oh, Blaine, I'm so sorry!" She said when he explained the situation. "One of my kids has a fever. I would tell you to bring Max here, but I don't want him to catch whatever bug Peter has."

After telling her he hoped Peter would get well soon, Blaine put the phone back down again. Just then, he heard Max's faint crying from his bedroom. He moved down the hallway towards the baby's room and peeked into the cradle, where the baby was clearly just making noise to get his attention.

"Good morning, kiddo. We have a bit of a situation here. Can you be patient with your Uncle Blaine for just a moment?" He said, as he picked him up and rocked him a little.

After going through his very short list of options, Blaine tried the only one he had left and dialed Sam's number. He knew Sam was always busy in the mornings, but he hoped he could at least watch Max for an hour while he was at the meeting.

"Hey, Blaine, what's up?" Sam said as a greeting.

"Hey, Sam. I'm really sorry to bother you, I was just wondering…"

"Hey! Do you want to run laps for the rest of the day? Focus, Larson, or you'll be in the bench for the rest of the season!" Sam's voice sounded distant, as if he had put the phone away to scream. "Sorry, man. These kids are killing me."

"It's fine," Blaine said. "Do you have training all morning?"

"Yeah, today is a hell day. Why?" Sam asked.

Blaine ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock. He needed to leave in five minutes or he would be late. "My babysitter cancelled at the last possible minute, and I have a staff meeting. I was hoping you could watch Max for a bit…"

"Oh man, I'm so sorry. Do you have anyone else you can call?" Sam sounded really regretful, as if it was his fault he had to work and couldn't take care of Max.

Blaine didn't want to worry him. Sam had been an outstanding friend through all of this, and the last thing Blaine wanted was to make him feel bad about anything. "I'll figure it out. Don't worry. Thanks, Sam. I'll see you later, maybe?"

"Okay, and give me a call tonight if I don't see you, okay?"

Blaine placed the phone on the baby's dresser. He stared at his nephew, who was currently watching him with huge blue eyes, as if wondering about his fate for the day.

"Well, buddy. It looks like you'll have to come to work with me," Blaine said, trying to sound cheerful about the prospect.

Max's response was to suddenly and thoroughly soil his diaper.

* * *

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air was still warm, and Kurt knew soon he would have to find the box of thick scarves in the back of his closet and replace the cute green jacket he was wearing today for a heavier coat that could protect him from the New York cold.

He arrived at campus too early, with a couple of hours to kill before his first class of the day. He thought about how he could have used those two hours to catch up on some sleep instead of wasting the first part of his morning at yet another failed job interview. How hard could it be to find a damn job? He wasn't applying to be a physicist; he just wanted to wait some tables or sell some clothes, maybe.

There was no reason to ruin this lovely weather with his frustration, though. As his father kept saying, things would end up working out in the end. He just needed to be patient.

Kurt found a wooden bench under one of the largest trees on campus and sat there. Since he had nothing better to do, except for texting Rachel, he could just as well get ahead on some reading for class. He took a book out of his bag, got comfortable on the bench, and opened it on his lap.

He got lost in the paragraphs for a while, until a sound made him look up from the page. There was a baby crying somewhere, an insisting little noise. He saw a man was pushing a stroller, clearly on a rush to get somewhere. Kurt had to take a second look when he realized the man was Professor Anderson.

Professor Anderson looked stressed. This was saying something, because he _always_ looked stressed lately. Kurt could barely remember what the man looked like without that tense look on his face, which was a shame, because he was very attractive.

Professor Anderson pushed the stroller out of the sidewalk to get out of the way of students rushing from one class to the other, and into the lawn, under the tree next to Kurt's. He parked the stroller there and leaned to look inside, his eyes pleading desperately with the baby.

"Come on, kiddo. I know you're upset, but I need you to be good for me for just a few minutes, please?" He was saying.

Before he knew what he was doing, Kurt was putting his book back in the bag and walking towards them. "That's cute. My Dad still calls me kiddo, too," he said. He cringed when Professor Anderson startled and turned to look at him. "Sorry. Too much information? I never know how to make small talk with any of the teaching staff."

Professor Anderson clearly forced a small smile for him. "Hi, Kurt. It's fine. You just caught me off guard, that's all."

Kurt peeked into the stroller. The baby had his hands in fists and was shaking them all around in clear anger. "Poor cutie. What's wrong with him?"

Professor Anderson glanced at his watch. "He's hungry. My babysitter cancelled on me on the very last minute and I'm late to a staff meeting. I had to bring him, and I didn't have time to give him a bottle." With a sound that could have been half a sigh, half a grunt, Professor Anderson opened his bag and grabbed a bottle. The baby immediately made grabby hands. "I'm horrible at this."

Kurt felt bad for the guy. His break-up theory suddenly seemed so much worst than it had been at the beginning. Someone had dumped poor Professor Anderson _and_ this cute baby? Who was the heartless asshole?

"I'm sure you're doing your best," Kurt said softly, and Professor Anderson glanced at him, his eyes almost as big and desperate as the baby's. Kurt's throat was unexpectedly dry. "What's his name?"

"Max," he replied, as he watched the baby latch onto the bottle like he hadn't had anything to drink in months.

"Look, I know this is going to sound super weird, and it's fine if you don't want to," Kurt said. What the hell was he doing? "But I have about two hours to kill before my next class, and you obviously need a hand here. I can watch the baby, if you want."

Professor Anderson looked like he didn't understand any of the words coming out of Kurt's mouth. "What?"

"I know you don't know me that well, so it's okay if you don't trust me enough for this. But it's not like I'm going to run away with the kid and sell him at the black market." Professor Anderson looked horrified even though it was obvious Kurt was kidding. "I mean, I could, because I need the money, but I need you not to fail me in class even more, because I would truly, truly like to graduate."

Professor Anderson glanced at Max, then again at his watch, and once more at Kurt, as if trying to decide if he was insane enough to do this. "I don't know… he's not very used to strangers. He's a little distrustful…"

Kurt opened his arms towards the baby. "May I?"

After a second's hesitation, Professor Anderson nodded. He removed the bottle from Max's mouth, who immediately started wailing again, and Kurt picked him up. He bounced him gently once or twice, smiling at him.

"Hey you. Why so grumpy, huh?" He said in a silly voice he never thought he'd use in front of one of his professors.

Miraculously, the baby stopped crying. He tilted his head like a puppy, studying Kurt with shameless curiosity, and then planted a hand on his face, as if saying "yes, okay, you're a good grown-up, we're cool."

He turned to Professor Anderson. "What does this mean?" He asked, talking around the hand covering half his mouth. "Have I been accepted?"

A little smile appeared on Professor Anderson's perpetually stressed face. "It's like you're the baby whisperer." Kurt's grin spread across his lips. Professor Anderson gave him the bottle of milk, and Kurt tried to figure out how to hold and feed a baby at the same time. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to do it."

Kurt fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to the other man. "Here. Put your number in there, and I'll call you the minute I think I can't handle it, or if it looks like he's not happy with me. I'll text you as soon as he finishes that bottle so you can have my number and call me if you want to check on him."

Professor Anderson looked at him like he had never seen something quite like Kurt. "Why are you doing this?"

Kurt shrugged. "I just felt like being a nice human being today."

Professor Anderson was frozen to the spot for a moment, watching Kurt with a look on his face that Kurt couldn't quite understand. It made Kurt fidget on the spot for a few seconds, feeling as if he was being tested, somehow.

"Okay," Professor Anderson finally said. "Thank you. You really, really saved me."

"No problem," Kurt smiled reassuringly at him.

"Here's his diaper bag," Professor Anderson hung it from the stroller. "There's more formula in the bag as well, and I…"

Kurt could tell he was becoming slightly hysteric. "Hey," he interrupted in a soft voice. "He'll be alright. I promise. Just go. We'll hang out here for a little while. I'll text you if I need anything at all, or if I have any questions."

Professor Anderson took a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay. Okay. I'm going. Thank you again, Kurt!"

Kurt grabbed Max's hand to wave at him as Professor Anderson walked away, looking back at them every few steps. He looked like he didn't want to go, and Kurt couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been for him to leave his son with a guy he barely knew.

Once he was out of sight, Kurt turned to the baby. He was sucking on his bottle intently, but his eyes were fixed on Kurt. "It's just you and me now, little guy. What should we do?"

Max seemed perfectly happy just with his bottle, so Kurt sat down in the shade of the tree with him and fed him until it was empty. Then he propped him up against his shoulder to pat his back, like he had seen Carole do with one of her nieces once.

"If you throw up on my beautiful jacket, your dad will have to get me a new one," he said as sternly as he could.

Kurt didn't have any experience with babies, outside from occasional encounters with distant relatives on holidays or family occasions. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, but once he was fed and satisfied, Max didn't seem interested in doing anything other than sleeping. So he rocked him gently and then put him in his stroller. He then texted Professor Anderson so he could have his number, and assured him that the baby was fine and resting. He attached a picture so he wouldn't worry.

Kurt focused back on his reading while Max slept. He got distracted every now and again glancing at the baby – he really was too cute, and he pouted adorably in his sleep. Kurt wondered what he dreamed about, and then started thinking about Professor Anderson's situation. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn't a happy story. Kurt wondered if maybe the baby's other parent had completely disappeared out of their lives. How could someone walk out on their own child? But Kurt knew the world was full of twisted people, with no warmth in their hearts.

After a while, Kurt's system began to claim for coffee. He had woken up early for his interview and he didn't think he could survive any longer without some caffeine. He packed up his books, grabbed Max's diaper bag, and started pushing the stroller towards the cafeteria. He shot a quick message to Professor Anderson to let him know where he was heading so he wouldn't freak out if he got out of his meeting and didn't find them outside.

Max woke up as Kurt scanned the cafeteria for a table. He began to look around, as if trying to figure out where the hell he was. He looked right at Kurt, and Kurt was scared for a moment that the baby would start crying when he didn't see his dad. However, Max surprised him with a lovely grin which almost melted his sarcastic heart.

As he sipped his coffee, he looked in the bag for a toy to keep Max entertained. He sat the baby on his lap, once again reminding him that he was not to have any accidents on his fabulous clothing, and put a few cars on the table in front of him. Max played with them, mostly by trying to stick them into his mouth, for a little while, before he seemed to think throwing them around would be a lot more fun.

"Oh, Max, no, don't do that," Kurt said, leaning carefully to pick up the toys that had rolled under the table. "Like this, see? Just like this. No throwing," he explained, as he moved the cars over the table top.

Max threw another car.

"You're incredibly stubborn for your size, did you know that?" Kurt muttered, stretching to grab the little red car.

"You're going to regret giving him those in about a minute," a voice said behind him, and Kurt turned to find Professor Anderson standing there. "All he does is throw them around. You should see my kitchen. Toys everywhere."

"I guess it's more fun his way," Kurt said with a shrug. "How was the meeting?"

"Long and boring, pretty much as every staff meeting in history," Professor Anderson said, as he took the seat in front of Kurt's. The baby made grabby hands for him, so Kurt passed him over. "Did he give you any trouble?"

"Not at all. He's quite disciplined for a six month old baby. He didn't threw up on my jacket, didn't make me change his diaper… he's an exemplary kid, if you ask me," Kurt said, grinning.

Professor Anderson held the baby to his chest and dropped a kiss on the top of his head, his eyes on Kurt. "Like I said, baby whisperer." This only made Kurt grin harder. "Thank you so much. I can't even tell you how much you've helped me."

"My pleasure. It made an otherwise boring and disappointing morning a lot more interesting," Kurt replied.

Professor Anderson fished for his wallet. "I should pay you for this…"

"No way," Kurt shook his head. "I offered."

"Still, let me pay you. You've been so kind…" He insisted.

Kurt reached out and put his hand on his, stopping him from grabbing money. He retreated when he realized it was probably not very appropriate to touch his professor in any way. "It's fine, really. He was an angel. I can't take your money."

"Kurt…"

"Our interactions really need to stop being about you trying to give me money and me rejecting it. Just accept the fact that this was a favor, and you don't need to pay it back."

Professor Anderson bit his lip. "You're the most stubborn, kindest person I've ever met."

Kurt could feel his cheeks heating up at the compliment. "Thanks." He cleared his throat, not sure what else to say. "You should be proud. He's a great little guy, so you're clearly a great Dad."

He hoped the words would make Professor Anderson smile, that his stressed features would relax a little bit. He didn't expect to see his expression grow a little darker.

"I'm not his dad. He's my nephew." His voice was brusque, like he didn't want to talk about it. Kurt was confused, and it must have shown on his face even though he didn't want to ask any questions when they clearly weren't welcomed. "I… I'm his guardian. My brother and his wife passed away a couple of months ago."

"Oh," Kurt said breathlessly. This was even worse than what he had originally imagined. "I'm so sorry. That's terrible."

"Yeah, I…" Professor Anderson cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I should probably get him home…"

"You're doing a great job, you know?" Kurt said impulsively, stopping him in his tracks. Professor Anderson's hazel eyes were suddenly fixed on his. "He's a happy little boy. He's healthy. He clearly loves you. So… don't worry that much. You're doing great."

As soon as he stopped talking, Kurt began feeling terribly awkward. He was completely out of place saying those things, even if he wanted to cheer the other man up. After all, he was his professor. They weren't friends. He had no right to assume things about him, or to talk about his personal life.

He gathered his stuff quickly and stood up, making a horrible noise with the chair as it scraped against the floor. He cringed, but didn't stop. "I'm going to be late for class. See you, Mr. Anderson."

He ran away before Professor Anderson could even try to reply.

One of those days, that big mouth of his was going to get him in a lot of trouble.


	5. Chapter 5

For a reason he couldn't even try to explain to himself, Kurt avoided Professor Anderson for the next few weeks. Whenever he asked a question in class, even if he looked at Kurt, sure that he would know the answer, Kurt looked the other way and pretended to be incredibly interested in the things his classmates had to say.

He knew he was being silly, but he felt as if he had crossed some sort of invisible line that divided students from teachers, as if he had been inappropriate. Well, maybe the hand-touching had been a little inappropriate, but had his sentiments, which had been entirely sincere, been too out of place?

Whatever the reasoning behind it, Kurt decided to take some distance from it. And in any case, he had too much to worry about to add that to the pile.

By mid-October, Kurt had attended what seemed like endless job interviews. He finally managed to find a position in a small coffee shop not too far from campus called _The Happy Bean_. The logo was a despicably cheerful coffee bean with legs and a top hat. It didn't pay as much as his other job, and he mostly had the closing shift, which meant he got home really late, but it was something. Deep down inside, he knew if his circumstances had been any different, he wouldn't have taken the offer, but now he was desperate.

"I know you're trying to save me stress, but knowing _you_ are stressed has exactly the opposite effect," his father said when Kurt told him about the new job. "You shouldn't be slaving yourself at two jobs and doing a full class schedule, Kurt. Isn't college the time when you're supposed to have fun? Be careless?"

"Since when do you want me to be careless?" Kurt rolled his eyes even if his dad couldn't see him. "I'm fine, Dad. This is important to me."

Burt Hummel couldn't really argue with his son, because he knew how stubborn Kurt could be. So he simply sighed. "Okay. But the minute it's too much for you…"

"Of course," Kurt agreed, but he had his fingers crossed. He knew his family was struggling. He wasn't going to quit and put even more strain on them.

After a couple of weeks on the new job, he realized he was barely at home. He spent whatever time he had between jobs at the library, trying to catch up on reading or writing papers. Kurt hoped he wouldn't have to admit his dad was right. He just needed to get used to his new routine.

"Hi!" A voice startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up and found Rachel beaming at him from the other side of the counter.

He was at _The Happy Bean_ , and it was already eight o'clock in the evening. The coffee shop was relatively empty, and he was in charge of making the drinks today. He noticed Rachel was staring down at his uniform, which he had managed to hide from her until this very moment. It was an orange and brown monstrosity, complete with an inexplicable sun visor. It didn't go with his skin tone at all. Actually, it didn't go with anyone's skin tone, it was that awful.

"Hey," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just had rehearsal and was on my way home, but decided to stop for a visit. I have barely seen you in the past few days," she said, leaning against the counter to chat. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Just wish it was closing time already," he sighed. From the end of the counter, the girl at the cash register called out a cappuccino, so he got to work as he talked to Rachel. "I have to finish a paper due tomorrow."

"Your Dad called me yesterday," Rachel said, her face tinged with worry. "He's scared you're working too hard. I'm afraid he's right, Kurt."

"Oh Rach, please don't start with me," Kurt muttered, tiredly. He had no time for another lecture. "I'm fine, and you know I need the money. I can't just quit. And if you talk to my Dad again, you will tell him I'm doing great, and that he has nothing to worry about. Don't you dare make him stress even more."

Rachel raised her hands as if showing her innocence and good will. "Whatever you say. I'm going home now. It's getting cold and I think I want some soup. Do you want me to save you some?"

Kurt's stomach growled. He hadn't had anything to eat since before noon. "God, yes. Please."

"Okay. See you later," Rachel air-blew a kiss to him and Kurt returned his attention to his work. He heard a click and saw a blinding flash. He looked back at the counter and found Rachel with her phone pointing at him. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. That uniform's an abomination. Bye Kurt!"

She fled before Kurt could even show her the middle finger.

* * *

Kurt was already on his way to his Modern Lit class when his phone vibrated with an email notification. He stopped at a corner to wait for the red light to cross the street and used the opportunity to read it.

_From: blaine . anderson at nyu . edu_

_Subject: Class cancelled_

_Hello everyone,_

_Today's class has been cancelled due to personal reasons. I'm sorry it's so last minute – I wouldn't cancel unless it was absolutely necessary._

_Regards,_

_Blaine._

Kurt blinked at his phone a few times. Part of him was immediately relieved for the next two hours of freedom – it was a welcomed and much needed time he could use for a nap, or maybe for finishing up yet another paper due soon.

But he also frowned, and a small voice in the back of his head wondered if something was wrong. In the years he had known Professor Anderson, he had never cancelled a class. Kurt still remembered the day he showed up with a high fever in his pajamas, looking like he had caught the plague. All the students had taken seats at the very back of the classroom, afraid to get sick so close to winter break.

He wondered if Max was okay. The poor little cutie. Kurt's heart melted just thinking of him.

Still, there was nothing he could do. He looked up from the phone and found the light was now red. But he turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction.

A nap sounded heavenly right now.

* * *

Blaine pressed _send_ and sat back in his chair. He hated cancelling classes, and he hated even more when he couldn't do it in advance. He hoped all his students would get the message on time and take advantage of the unexpected time off.

He turned around to look at Max, who was sitting on the floor on top of his favorite play mat, sucking thoughtfully on a teddy bear paw as he looked at the television, where one of his favorite cartoons was playing. There was an insistent little song the characters did at least once every episode and Blaine knew it would be stuck in his head for weeks.

Layla had called not even half an hour ago. She had suddenly remembered that she needed to let him know she had a new job and wouldn't have time to take care of Max anymore. Blaine felt like he was about to get an aneurism as she talked. She hadn't been a perfect babysitter, but Max didn't cry all the time with her, and that was an improvement from many other candidates he had interviewed. Now he was screwed, and truly had no idea what he was going to do.

He needed someone he could trust enough to leave his nephew with. Someone with whom Max didn't wail non-stop. Someone who was responsible. It wasn't an extremely long list of requisites, and it still was very hard to meet all of them.

The truth was Max was the most precious thing Blaine had in his life. He was the only thing he had left from his brother. Max had suffered enough losing his mother and father in one night, and didn't deserve to be left with the first person who was available to watch him while Blaine worked.

The weight on Blaine's shoulders was permanent. There was always something adding to it. He just wished there was a simple answer to at least _one_ of the many problems in his life.

* * *

A few days later, Blaine walked into his apartment and found Sam laying on the couch, Max sleeping peacefully on top of him, while a basketball game was playing quietly on the television. As Blaine put his bag down, Sam observed him, frowning.

"Alright, that's it," he said, sternly but in a low voice as not to wake Max. "Don't take another step into this apartment."

Blaine blinked in confusion. "What?"

"You're not allowed to come home," Sam said.

That didn't make things any clearer for Blaine. "Have you lost your mind? What are you talking about?"

"Blaine, for the past few months you have only left your house to go to work or run errands. _Your face depresses me_. Seriously," Sam muttered, and Blaine knew he didn't mean to be hurtful, but his words still stung.

"Thanks, Sam."

"You know what I mean. I'm your friend. I'm worried. You can't be a slave in your own life. Now, I have nothing to do tonight, so I can stay here and watch Max for a while longer. Why don't you go out? Go have a beer somewhere, go to the movies, I don't know. Go hook up with a guy, it's been forever."

"Sam!" Blaine exclaimed. "It's none of your business if I…"

"Of course it is. Who's going to take care of you if not me?" Sam retorted. "Please. Do it for me. Go have some fun."

"I have papers to grade, I can't…" Blaine protested, but Sam was clearly not going to accept any excuses. "You're being silly."

"I'm not. I'm worried, which is completely rational," Sam carefully stood up, making sure the movement didn't wake Max.

"But it's almost time for dinner. Max…"

"I'm perfectly capable of making dinner for Max. Get. Out." Sam walked towards the front door and opened it again, looking pointedly at Blaine.

Realizing he had no saying in this, Blaine sighed, picked up his bag again, and left the apartment.

He had absolutely no clue of where he could go.

* * *

It had been a long day, and Kurt was glad that his shift was over. He was on his way to the subway when he got a message from Rachel. She had forgotten to pick up milk and other stuff at the grocery store today, and asked if he could do it instead. With a frustrated sigh, Kurt made a mental note to have a chat with Rachel – she had the habit of "forgetting" to go grocery shopping at least twice a week.

He knew there was a supermarket just a few blocks from there, and he preferred that one to the one close to his apartment in Bushwick, so he made a little detour.

Kurt pushed the cart down the aisles, grabbing bottles of milk and cartons of eggs, as he tried to decide what he wanted to have for dinner. He had to resist the temptation to grab some frozen pizzas: he had been eating junk food too often lately, with the little time he had to cook. Instead, he turned towards the vegetables section and grabbed a few things to make some salad.

He was trying to decide what pasta he was in the mood for when he turned at a corner and collided against a cart coming in the opposite direction.

"Oh my goodness! I'm sorry, I didn't see you…"

"It's fine, I was distracted anyway… Kurt?"

Kurt looked up and found Professor Anderson standing right in front of him. "Oh hey! How are you, Mr. Anderson?"

It was probably a stupid question, because the man looked even more exhausted than usual. His cart had several packs of diapers and cans of formula.

"I'm good, thank you. How have you been?" Professor Anderson said politely.

"I'm fine," Kurt replied, just as politely. Without noticing, they both pushed their carts in the same direction. "I was surprised you cancelled class this week. I hope everything's fine with Max?" He knew he was prying but he couldn't help it.

"Oh, yes, he's doing great," Mr. Anderson said, smiling a little as if to reassure him. "Just had a babysitting problem. My friend Sam is helping me now, and I have a few people to interview tomorrow, so hopefully there will be no more cancelled classes."

"That's good," Kurt nodded. "I hope it works out."

"Me too." Professor Anderson stopped and grabbed a box of pasta from a shelf. Kurt reached for one on a lower shelf, which was a little cheaper. "Do you live around here?"

"No, I live in Bushwick, but I just left work, and my roommate forgot to go grocery shopping _again_ ," Kurt rolled his eyes. "So here I am."

"I thought you worked at the Starbucks near the park?" Professor Anderson asked in confusion.

"Oh yeah, I do. This is a second job. It's another coffee shop, so it's not very impressive, but…" Kurt shrugged as they stopped to look at canned tomato sauce. "It helps, I guess."

Professor Anderson was frowning down at a can, but Kurt didn't think there was anything too worrying about Marinara sauce. "Aren't you doing a full schedule this semester? Isn't it too overwhelming with two jobs?"

Kurt chuckled. "My dad said pretty much the same thing." He sighed. "The truth is my family is in a delicate financial situation at the moment, so I'm trying to relieve my dad from some of my expenses. He had a third heart attack this summer and hospital bills aren't cheap."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Professor Anderson said in a serious but soft voice. "Is he doing okay now?"

"As okay as possible, I guess. It's difficult to keep him eating healthy and he should avoid any kind of stress, but it's not easy," Kurt said. They turned into a new aisle and he grabbed some bread. "He also insists on going back to work, which he shouldn't. He owns a garage, but both my stepmom and I know he won't be happy doing a desk job. He'll be sliding under cars as soon as we look the other way."

There was a little smile on Professor Anderson's lips when Kurt looked at him. "He sounds just as stubborn as his son."

Kurt laughed.

Professor Anderson needed some vegetables, so Kurt turned back to the produce section with him. For some reason, it seemed like they were both silently grateful for the company.

"You know, I…" Kurt began saying, but stopped.

"What is it?" Mr. Anderson asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Nothing. It's silly," Kurt suddenly seemed incredibly interested in the price of sweet potatoes.

Professor Anderson leaned next to him, looking him in the eyes. "You can tell me," he said, and he sounded so earnest that it almost made Kurt blush.

"I just feel like I need to apologize, you know, for the other day at the cafeteria? I feel like I was inappropriate," Kurt said.

Mr. Anderson's face softened. "Kurt, you weren't inappropriate. You were very, very kind, and I appreciate it." There was a knot in Kurt's stomach, and he had no idea where it came from. "I don't usually… you know, talk much about my brother or what happened."

"I understand," Kurt said. "My brother died, too."

Professor Anderson's eyes widened slightly. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"He was eighteen; we had just graduated high school. Finn was my stepbrother, but we went through so much together, it was as if the same blood ran through our veins," Kurt explained, and he didn't know where any of this was coming from. "It was completely unexpected, of course. My stepmom and my dad never recovered, I think. I still think about him every day."

"That's terrible," Professor Anderson muttered. "He was so young…"

"No matter what age they are, they're always too young, aren't they? We're not ready to let anyone we love go," Kurt murmured, and now his eyes felt wet. He didn't mean to get so overwhelmed.

"You're right," Mr. Anderson nodded slowly.

For a moment, they were quiet. They didn't move. Out of nowhere, in front of them, there was someone who understood in a way no one else ever had.

After a few seconds, they began walking down the aisle again, pushing their carts slowly. Every now and then, one of them would pick something from a shelf and put it in the cart, and that was all. They just kept each other company, as if the other knew how much they needed it.

"Cooper was ten years older than me," Professor Anderson said after a while. "We never really saw eye to eye. He had his head stuck in his ass for most of my childhood. But when I really needed him, he stood up, he stood by me. I just… I miss him, you know? Like there's a piece of me that's suddenly gone."

"Yeah, that's how it feels," Kurt said sadly. "I don't think it ever goes away. It becomes manageable, yes, but it's not less painful."

"What truly kills me is that Max won't remember his parents, that he'll have to grow up without them, and that, to be honest, I'm just a poor substitute of them," Professor Anderson said, as they headed to the cashier.

Kurt stopped, and placed his hand on top of Mr. Anderson's on the cart's handle. "I know I said this already, but you're doing an amazing job. Max loves you, I could see that in the very little time I spent with him. And you talk about your brother with so much love… I can't imagine you letting him grow up without knowing everything there is to know about his parents. He'll feel like they were there all along through your stories of them. Don't push the memories into a box when they feel too painful," Kurt said, as he thought of the days after his mom had died and how his father hadn't been able to talk about her for a long time. "Share them with him. That's the best thing you can do."

Professor Anderson's eyes were shinning, so bright under the artificial light inside the supermarket. For a moment, Kurt got lost in them, until he remembered where they were, who they were. He removed his hand.

"And here I go being inappropriate again," he chuckled, awkwardly. "I've never been a touchy-feely guy; I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm so sorry."

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Kurt," Mr. Anderson said, and Kurt realized he liked the sound of his name in his voice… which was a very, very weird thought to have. "You actually turned a pretty terrible evening into a good one. I need to thank you."

Kurt was grateful the cashier was now ready for them, because he had no idea how to reply to that. Professor Anderson insisted that Kurt should go first, so he did, and then quietly and patiently waited until he had also paid for his purchases.

"I should go before my roommate thinks I got murdered on the way home," Kurt said, even though he felt sad to say goodbye. "She is the biggest drama queen I know."

Professor Anderson chuckled. "Goodbye, Kurt. It was nice to see you."

"You too. I hope your babysitting problem gets solved soon," Kurt answered, as he waved and headed to the exit.

"Thank you."

Kurt hurried down the street towards the subway station. This had to be the most interesting trip to the grocery store of his entire life. Maybe when he got home, he wouldn't reprimand Rachel about forgetting the milk again.

* * *

Blaine walked out of the supermarket and leaned against the wall for a moment. He could still see Kurt walking away, hurrying up to cross the street before the light turned back to green.

He hadn't been able to talk about Cooper, or about any that had happened in the past few months, not even with Sam, until now. It hadn't been the longest of conversations, but still, it had felt so liberating talking to someone who truly understood everything he was feeling. Kurt was so mature for his age, a lot more than most of his students, and Blaine couldn't help but feel enthralled when he spoke.

When Sam had kicked him out of his own apartment earlier, Blaine had had no idea of what to do. He didn't feel like _having fun_ – how could he have fun? There was nothing appealing about going to the movies or having a beer at a random bar, and especially he could find nothing appealing about picking up a stranger to hook up with. He knew at some point he would feel like going out there again, but right now, everything was too overwhelming. He wasn't over it yet. It was still too shocking, to think that he wouldn't see Cooper and Sara ever again. So instead, he had decided to do something productive until he was allowed back into his home. He had run out of diapers and formula that morning, so grocery shopping seemed like the most sensible option.

If only he had known he was getting so much more out of it than baby food and lettuce.

It shouldn't have felt like this, he thought, talking to a student. He should have felt awkward sharing pieces of his life with him.

Instead, he felt as if he could have shared every secret he had ever had with Kurt Hummel, and there was something very terrifying about that thought.


	6. Chapter 6

As Thanksgiving approached, both faculty and students became more and more stressed. The line of Blaine's shoulders seemed perpetually tense, and Kurt had to steal some concealer from Rachel's make-up bag to cover the dark shadows under his eyes. She looked at him reproachfully. Kurt knew it had nothing to with him using her stuff: she had voiced her concerns over Kurt's schedule several times in the past few weeks. Kurt tried to ignore her, but Rachel had never been a person easy to ignore.

His shifts at Starbucks were the same as usual. Sometimes he had to cover for a coworker, and the extra money was welcomed, but it wasn't this job that was a burden. _The Happy Bean_ , on the other hand, should have been named _The Miserable Bean_.

His shifts were getting longer and longer, and he was working on days when he was supposed to be off. There was always an excuse and, at first, Kurt decided not to complain because he could do with some more money in his wallet. But when he got his check at the end of the month, his extra hours weren't included. He immediately talked to the owner about it, and after a five-minute conversation, it was obvious the man was looking for a way out without having to give Kurt any more money. In the end, when Kurt threatened to have his lawyer look into it, the owner gave in. Kurt hoped he wouldn't have to go through this every month.

"You should quit," Rachel told him that night, when Kurt barely made it through the apartment door before he started screeching in frustration.

That only angered him more. "Sure! I'll just quit! That's a great solution, Rachel. Why didn't I think of this before? It's exactly what I should do, since I can just pay the bills and the groceries by smiling at people!"

Rachel recoiled to her room. She didn't show her face again until the following morning, when Kurt made her coffee and pancakes to make up for his lousy outburst.

Kurt couldn't quit, but he could keep looking for another job in the meantime. That was the only solution he was able to come up with.

Burt called about Thanksgiving. It pained Kurt to tell his father he wasn't planning on going. He was scheduled to work that Friday and Saturday. He hoped Sunday would be a day off, but he wasn't even sure anymore. Plus, and he didn't tell his father this, he didn't think he could afford the plane ticket.

"We can do Christmas this year," Kurt said, trying to sound positive. "I'll have more time off."

The disappointment in his father's voice nearly made him burst into tears. And when he pictured the dinner table, with only Carole and Burt sitting there in front of a turkey too big for two, with Kurt's (and Finn's) empty spots besides them, he had to lock himself in his room and cry into his pillow so Rachel wouldn't hear him.

It was all becoming too much, and Kurt had no idea how to make it better.

* * *

The Babysitter Situation, as Blaine had begun to call it, hadn't gotten much better. He hadn't interviewed anyone he truly liked (or that _Max_ truly liked), but at least Sarah's friend was giving him a hand, and between her and Sam, Blaine was covered enough for work. It wasn't ideal, and it sure as hell wasn't a permanent solution, but it was buying him some time.

Everyone around him seemed to start feeling the stress of the approaching holidays. Blaine couldn't blame them – the pile of papers and exams on his desk was growing exponentially every day. Every night, after he put Max to sleep, he stayed up reading papers and grading tests until his eyes couldn't read another word. But he was behind, and he knew it.

Even though the prospect of the first batch of holidays without his family didn't sound appealing at all, Blaine was looking forward to having four days off to try and recharge some energy. Sam had come to the rescue and invited Blaine and Max to spend the day with his family. Blaine had been so grateful that he could have kissed Sam – it was nice to know he and Max wouldn't have to stay home by themselves.

He didn't stop to think these would be Max's first holidays, and that he would never get to share them with his parents.

* * *

The day before the Thanksgiving break, Blaine had office hours. Sarah's friend and Sam were both busy, but since he wasn't teaching a class, he decided to take Max with him. He parked the stroller next to his desk and tried to keep the baby entertained while he graded papers.

He only had one appointment, with the girl who always asked questions in his Modern Lit class. He had a feeling that it wasn't that she didn't understand nor had trouble with the contents – the girl clearly had a crush on him. He thought it was sweet, but it made him slightly uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting with her.

Fortunately, it looked like she was just as stressed as everyone else and didn't want to actually flirt with him this time. Blaine answered a few questions she had and wished her a happy Thanksgiving. She fled the office almost as quickly as she had arrived.

He exchanged a quick glance with Max. Maybe it had been the baby that scared the girl away.

"I should probably bring you to all my Modern Lit classes and appointments, Max," he said, and the baby giggled as if he knew exactly what he meant.

He had just stood up to make some coffee when there was a knock on the door. He had no other appointments today, so he wondered who it was.

Blaine was surprised when Kurt Hummel came into the office. There was nothing weird about one of his students coming at office hours, so that was not the surprising part. It was the way Kurt looked that made him stop in his tracks, halfway back to his desk.

Kurt looked disheveled. There was no other way to describe it – his hair pointing in a million directions, his clothes were wrinkled, and he had dark marks under his eyes. It was shocking – Kurt was the most put-together person he had ever met. He had never seen him with a single hair out of place.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson," he said, and he didn't even sound like himself. "I'm sorry to bother you, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course, Kurt. Please come in, take a seat. Would you like some coffee?" Blaine asked.

"Oh god, _yes_. That would be fantastic. Thank you," Kurt answered, almost eagerly. As he sat in front of the desk, he noticed the stroller. He perked up a little. "Max is here! Hi, little cutie! Remember me?"

Max clearly remembered him, because he bounced on the stroller and reached his arms for Kurt. After looking at Blaine for approval, Kurt picked him up and sat him on his lap.

"Careful with the coffee, it's hot," Blaine warned, and went back to sitting behind the desk. He studied Kurt in silence for a moment as he played with his nephew. "Are you okay, Kurt?"

Kurt kissed Max's forehead and then put him back in the stroller, so he could focus on the conversation. He wrapped his hands around the steaming cup of coffee, like he needed the comfort. "Yes. I just wanted to apologize because I didn't hand in my paper on Rimbaud's _Les Illuminations_ last class. I should have talked to you then, but I was in a hurry, and I preferred to come back when I actually had the whole thing written. I'm sorry."

In the mess of papers he had received, Blaine hadn't even noticed Kurt's wasn't amongst them. "I appreciate you came talk to me. Did you have trouble with the theme?"

"Not at all, I had the whole thing written in my head, just needed to type it," Kurt explained. "It's just that my work schedule is all over the place right now, and I couldn't find a single moment to sit down and work on it. I'm truly sorry, I'm not the kind of student who misses a deadline…"

Blaine nodded. "I know that. You've been pretty much the perfect student so far. It happens to the best of us. Do you have a copy of your paper here?"

"I do! It's right here," he searched in his bag for a moment and then gave Blaine a folder.

"Then we can pretend this never happened," Blaine said reassuringly, adding Kurt's folder to the pile waiting to be graded. "As you can see, I'm a little behind on my own work. And now I can repay you for the coffee and the impromptu babysitting."

Kurt chuckled but his heart clearly wasn't in it. Blaine watched him sip his coffee for a moment, frowning.

"Are you sure you're okay? Is there anything else bothering you besides the hectic schedule?" He leaned across the desk as he talked, hoping to convey his concern.

With a sigh, Kurt sat back in his seat. "I don't want to bother you with my problems, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine arched an eyebrow at him. "Really? I seem to recall bothering you with my problems more than enough. It's only fair I listen to you now."

It didn't take long to convince Kurt to talk. In a matter of seconds, he exploded like he couldn't take it anymore. Suddenly, he was talking about how worried he was about his father's health, about how worried he was about money, about how terrible his new job was, and how much he wanted to quit.

"But I _can't_ ," he said, and Blaine had the feeling he was close to tears. "I can't quit, and no one seems to understand that. No one seems to understand that I need to do this, that it's important that I help my family. No one understands that my dad is sick and that nothing is more important to me than helping him be healthy. Not even he understands."

"He's just as worried about you as you are about him," Blaine said softly. "You're his kid. You'll always be his kid."

"I know," Kurt murmured tiredly. "That's why I need him. I need him to be okay so he can continue being my dad and I can continue being his kid for a very long time."

"Remember what you said? We are never ready to let anyone we love go," Blaine said. "You can't control that, Kurt. Maybe you should try relaxing a little bit. If you spend so much time stressing about keeping your dad safe and healthy, you won't spend any time enjoying his company. I think that's what truly matters, in the end."

Kurt looked down at his coffee sadly. "He asked me to go home for Thanksgiving, but I can't afford the trip. I work pretty much every single hour I'm awake, and I still can't afford visiting them."

Blaine's heart broke a little at how miserable Kurt sounded. "I'm really sorry, Kurt. I wish there was something I could do to help you."

"Well, you accepted my paper," Kurt said, shrugging and doing his best to smile. "That's more than enough."

They finished their coffee in silence. Blaine was thinking hard, trying to come up with a way to help this poor kid out, but nothing came to mind. He wondered if maybe he had enough miles for a flight to wherever Kurt was from, but then remembered he had spent all of them in his tickets to Greece, that he had never even gotten to use.

Kurt stood up before Blaine could think of another solution. "You're a really great teacher, Mr. Anderson. I don't think many of my professors would listen to me whine for so long. Thank you, you really didn't have to."

"There's no need to thank me. My office door is always open for you, Kurt. Whatever you need, just let me know, okay?" Blaine said earnestly, hoping he came through to him.

Kurt walked to Max and grabbed the baby's hand, dropping a kiss on his little knuckles. "Thanks, I appreciate it. Bye Max!" He turned to smile warmly at Blaine. "Bye, Mr. Anderson. Have a lovely Thanksgiving."

"You too," Blaine said, and just as Kurt reached the door, he called out. "Oh, and Kurt?" Kurt looked over his shoulder. "It's all going to be alright, just remember that, okay?"

He could have sworn the tension on Kurt's shoulders disappeared for a moment. The tiny smile that he sent his way seemed a lot more genuine than any Blaine had seen until now.

He wished he could help him smile like that again.

* * *

Rachel told him her parents had decided to go skiing in Vermont instead of doing Thanksgiving this year, but Kurt knew it was a lie. She didn't want to leave him alone in New York when he was clearly not in the best spirits. Kurt reassured her several times that he was fine and that she didn't need to stay for him, and yet nothing could change Rachel Berry's mind once she had made a decision. She was staying and that was final.

It was in moments like these when Kurt remembered what an amazing friend Rachel was, and how much he loved her.

He was grateful for her friendship, and in exchange for her sacrificing her family time, Kurt was determined to give her a Thanksgiving she would remember forever.

Rachel was a vegan so a turkey was out of the question. He also couldn't spend that much money – he would have gone to Ohio if he'd had enough – so the traditional Thanksgiving dinner would have to suffer a few alterations.

Despite being a holiday, Rachel went to rehearsal ("the stage knows no holidays, Kurt. You always have to be prepared"), so Kurt had most of the day to himself to get things ready. First, he allowed himself to sleep in. his body was sore from exhaustion and tension, and it welcomed the few extra hours in bed. He popped his muscles and stretched his arms over his head, savoring the opportunity to be lazy and wake up slowly instead of jumping off the bed as soon as the alarm went off.

After a shower and a large cup of coffee, Kurt got to work, first by cleaning the apartment thoroughly, and then by moving the furniture around so he could create a larger dinning space by the window. He had the feeling tonight would be the first snow of the season, and he didn't want to miss it.

He found a few scented candles in the back of a kitchen cabinet, so he set those up as well, before getting to work on the food.

When Rachel came home, starving, she stopped with one foot into the apartment and stared.

"Kurt! What is all this?" She exclaimed, surprised.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Rach," he muttered, kissing the top of her head in greeting.

He had made two different kinds of salad, and a big plate of creamy pasta with artichoke and spinach. There was a pumpkin pie in the oven, keeping warm, and some apple cider for later. Looking at Rachel's bright and happy face as she looked around and took in all the delicious scents around them, almost made him forget to feel sad for not seeing his family.

Later, after their bellies were full and their hearts a lot lighter, they looked for the heaviest, thickest blankets they had and wrapped themselves in them to sit outside on the fire escape. They watched the city under them, around them, everywhere the eye could reach. They could see the outline of Manhattan far in the distance, and they both wondered in silence when they would be able to live there. For a moment, it felt like they were kids making plans for the future, with no worries – only fresh and unscathed dreams.

As Kurt had predicted, snowflakes slowly started falling from the sky. He looked up, a small smile stretching his lips, and a flake caught in his eyelashes.

His life wasn't all that bad, not tonight.

* * *

A few miles from New York, in the outsides of Louisville, Kentucky, Blaine was sitting at the kitchen table with Sam. They were sharing a beer in the silence of the house – all of Sam's family had gone to bed already, and Blaine had put Max down to sleep as well. Now they both sat there, keeping each other company.

Inevitably, Blaine was thinking of his brother. Last Thanksgiving, Sarah had been pregnant. Cooper had been over the moon, and certainly over-protective, so he forbid her to make dinner and made her park in front of the television all day. Blaine remembered how she had cringed every time a sudden noise came from the kitchen, as Cooper yelled "it's fine! It's all fine, I have it under control!"

Blaine had ended up lighting the barbecue in the backyard, and their Thanksgiving dinner had been burgers, corn and potato salad. Still, Cooper hadn't lost his smile. He was over the moon because he was going to be a father, and nothing, not even an atypical holiday, would ruin that.

He felt the tears stinging in his eyes. He covered his face with his hands, trying to hold back the crying. He missed his idiot brother so much.

"Hey, hey," Sam said, reaching across the table to put a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "It's okay, man. It's okay."

"I'm sorry," Blaine apologized, furiously wiping the tears away.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Sam said. "It's normal to miss your brother. I don't know what I would do without Stacey or Stevie."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't want to ruin Thanksgiving for your family."

"You're ruining nothing. We're happy to have you here, so shut your mouth."

Blaine chuckled amongst the tears. "Your parents are amazing."

"Yeah, they are," Sam agreed. He watched Blaine as he took a sip of beer, hoping to calm himself. "You know, you never really talk about Cooper. Or Sarah. Maybe you need to talk about them."

"I've been talking about them," Blaine said. When Sam looked at him as if inviting him to tell him more, Blaine sighed. "It's going to sound weird, but I've talked about it with one of my students."

"Really?" Sam said, his eyebrows going all the way up to his hairline.

"Yeah, it's not as weird as it sounds," Blaine said, and told Sam about Kurt finding him and Max on campus and offering to take of Max while he was on his meeting. "We talked a few times after that, and he told me his brother passed away and his dad has a heart condition. He's a great kid, and is having a rough time. I wish I could help him."

"Look, in any other situation, I would say talking about personal stuff with a student is never the best thing to do," Sam said, as he scratched the label off his bottle. "But at this point, I just want you to talk to anyone. You can't keep everything inside. It's going to eat you out."

Blaine knew he was right, but whenever he wanted to talk about Cooper, the words seemed to form a knot in his throat and he couldn't go on. For some reason, talking to Kurt about him had been a little easier. He supposed it had to do with knowing Kurt understood from experience what he was feeling.

When they finished their beer, Sam got up, gave Blaine a pat in the back, and told him to get some sleep. He disappeared up the stairs, and Blaine was alone in the kitchen, with only his thoughts to keep him entertained.

For some reason, he thought of Kurt. He wondered what he was doing, if he'd had a nice Thanksgiving, despite not being able to visit his family. Blaine found himself wishing he could help him, wishing he could make life easier for him.

And then he realized… there _was_ something he could do.

Two birds. One stone.

* * *

The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas were the hardest of the semester. As soon as classes resumed after the little break, Kurt could feel the weight of what was to come on his shoulders. If his work schedule continued to be as awful as usual, he would have to spend the nights at the library to prepare for exams.

Every class he had attended this week so far had added an enormous pile of things to do to his list. Professor Anderson's wasn't the exception, but at least he had gotten an A on his paper about Rimbaud.

He was gathering his stuff at the end of the class when he heard his name.

"Kurt? Could I talk to you for a bit?" Mr. Anderson called from the front of the classroom.

Kurt tied the scarf around his neck, grabbed his bag, and made his way to him.

Professor Anderson waited until all the other students had left the classroom to speak. "Hi. How was your Thanksgiving?"

"A lot better than I originally thought it would be. My roommate stayed with me and we had a really nice dinner. Yours?" He asked, politely, though he was a little confused. Had Mr. Anderson just made him stay to ask about his holidays?

"Surprisingly good," he replied with a nod. He cleared his throat. "I wanted to ask you something, and I hope I'm not being inappropriate. I've been thinking about your situation, and it turns out I might have a way to help, if you're interested."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Well, as you know, I'm having trouble finding someone who can take care of Max while I'm at work," Mr. Anderson explained. "It's been quite difficult for him to bond with other people, to get him to trust them, after… you know, the accident. I think there are only two people he doesn't cry with. One is my friend, Sam," he paused and looked at him meaningfully. "And the other one is you."

"Oh," Kurt said, surprised.

"Which brings me to this," he continued, leaning on his desk and crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Kurt. "I know you are not comfortable with your job at the moment, so I thought maybe we could help each other out. Would you be interested in babysitting Max?"

Kurt was truly baffled. "Oh, wow. Are you sure? I mean, I adore the kid, but I have absolutely no experience with babies."

"I trust you. Max trusts you. Everything else you need, you can learn. That's enough for me," Professor Anderson shrugged. "Of course, we need to talk about your salary and your schedule, but to be honest, I'm ready to offer whatever you deem appropriate. I'm a little desperate," he smiled, and there was a twinkle in his golden eyes that Kurt had never seen before.

"I wasn't expecting a job proposal," Kurt muttered, stunned. "I… thank you so much. It sounds wonderful. I don't know what to say."

"Well, hopefully you'll say yes, but if you're not comfortable working for me, or you don't want the job, I will completely understand," Mr. Anderson said kindly. "I just wanted you to know the offer's on the table."

Students began walking into the classroom for Professor Anderson's next class. Kurt startled, as Mr. Anderson straightened and went to grab his bag. He searched for something in it.

"Here's my number, in case you deleted it," he said, handing Kurt a piece of paper. "Give it some thought, and let me know what you decide. You can text me or call me whenever you're ready."

"Thank you so much," Kurt said, because it was the only thing he could think of saying. Mr. Anderson gave him a quick nod, and Kurt left the room as he launched into a new lecture.

As he left the building, Kurt carefully folded the piece of paper and put it in his bag for safekeeping, like it was a precious thing.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Kurt made it home that night. He was wearing that disgusting orange and brown uniform, now stained with coffee because a customer had thrown her drink at him, when Kurt had made the mistake of putting whole milk in her skinny latte.

He had been stuck covering for a coworker who didn't show up and didn't even bother to call, and had missed the subway. By the time he had made it to Bushwick, he was ready to commit murder or set The Fucking Happy Bean on fire.

Instead, he took a quick shower, changed into a clean set of pajamas, and as he slid into bed, he sent a text message to the number carefully scribbled on the piece of paper he had been thinking about all day.

To: Mr. Anderson.

_I'm in._

– _Kurt._


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt looked down at the paper in his hand to check the apartment number for the millionth time. He could recite Blaine Anderson's address by heart at this point, but he still checked.

He was nervous. He didn't know why.

Professor Anderson had asked him to come over to his apartment so they could talk. Kurt knew the job was his for the taking, but he was still anxious about what this little meeting would be about. What if Max cried non-stop as soon as he saw him? Professor Anderson would clearly withdraw the offer, and Kurt would be stuck serving coffee in the world's most obnoxious uniform.

He got off the subway and adjusted his scarf around his neck before venturing out of the station and into the cold. December was drawing closer and closer, and the snow was becoming thicker and thicker.

Mr. Anderson lived in a lovely four-story building near Bryant Park. Even though it was in Manhattan, his street wasn't as noisy, and it looked like a nice neighborhood to raise a kid.

Kurt pressed the small golden button for apartment 2-6. It only took a moment before Mr. Anderson's voice sounded through the speakers.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Mr. Anderson! It's Kurt!" He said, trying to sound enthusiastic, instead of nervous. He noticed he was screaming a little, so he cleared his throat and tried to play it cool. "Sorry, I'm a little early."

"No problem, Kurt. Come in!" Mr. Anderson said, and buzzed him in.

Professor Anderson was waiting with his door open when Kurt came out of the elevator. He had Max in his arms, wrapped in a towel, his thin soft hair still wet.

"Hi," Kurt said, a little timidly. "Did I interrupt bath time?"

"We were just finishing up, right, Max?" Mr. Anderson said, as he bounced Max a little in his arms. "Come in, Kurt. How are you?"

Kurt walked into the apartment. "I'm good, Mr. Anderson. How are you?"

The living room was a decent size, decorated in shades of blue, with a comfy couch and a big television. There were many bookcases filled with books, and a box of toys in the corner. Most of the picture frames displayed Max's face, but there were a few where Kurt could see a man and a woman, holding each other, big smiles on their faces. One quick glance at the man's face told him he was Max's dad: those big blue eyes were unmistakable.

"Honestly, I'm happy you said yes," Mr. Anderson chuckled. "I was starting to go insane. Thank you for agreeing to come over on a Saturday. I'm sure you had better things to do."

"It's no problem. I had nothing planned, and I have the evening shift at Starbucks today," Kurt shrugged. He followed Mr. Anderson into another room, which turned out to be Max's. The walls were plain white, and the furniture was placed like it was put there in some sort of hurry. It was clear Mr. Anderson had never bothered decorating the kid's room, and Kurt wondered why.

"Let me get this little guy dressed, and then we can have some coffee and talk, okay?" Mr. Anderson said.

"Sure, that sounds good," Kurt replied, and stood there awkwardly, not sure if he was supposed to leave the room or not. He watched as Professor Anderson got a diaper from one of the drawers in the changing table. "You should probably know I have never in my life changed a diaper."

"Neither had I, until Max came to live with me," Professor Anderson admitted. He looked over his shoulder at him. "Would you like to give it a shot?"

Kurt approached the changing table, where Max was laying with all his limbers in the air. Mr. Anderson was keeping him in place with a hand on his belly, to make sure he didn't roll off the table.

"It's not as easy as when he was three or four months old," Mr. Anderson explained. He handed Kurt the clean diaper. "Now he's older, knows how to move better, has more strength… and basically doesn't want you to put the diaper on him."

Kurt remembered seeing in a movie that you had to grab the baby's feet and raise them to slide the diaper under their butt. He tried that, and Max kicked his hand.

"That's good, you just have to get a firm grip on him," Mr. Anderson said, and when Kurt tried again, this time he did it right. "It's good you arrived just as he was done with his bath. This is nicer practice than it would have been with a dirty diaper."

Kurt scrunched his nose. "I guess that as long as you're nicer to me than those horrible women who throw coffee at me at my other job, you and I will be just fine, Max."

Mr. Anderson turned to look at him. "They throw coffee at you?"

"It doesn't happen all that often, but yeah. It happened right before I texted you, actually. I made the mistake of using whole milk in an order that was supposed to be a skinny latte, and the lady threw the whole thing on me." Kurt adjusted the diaper carefully.

"Kurt, that's awful," Mr. Anderson said, appalled. "What did you do?"

"I swallowed my anger, my pride and my frustration, I apologized to her for the mistake and made her a new drink on the house," Kurt replied. "There wasn't anything else I could do, really."

"Well, Max might spit milk on you every now and then, so it's good to know you have the patience for it," Mr. Anderson said with a smile. "But I'm still sorry you have to take that kind of thing from people. It's not right."

"I've had worse," Kurt murmured, distracted, and then gave a little cry of joy. "Yes! I did it! Look."

"You're a natural," Mr. Anderson grinned.

After Max was dressed, Mr. Anderson took him to the living room and sat him on a blanket on the floor. Max immediately crawled towards his box of toys and started emptying its contents.

"Would you mind watching him for a moment?" Professor Anderson asked. "I'll go make some coffee and we can talk."

"Sure, go ahead," Kurt answered, and as Mr. Anderson disappeared into the kitchen, he dropped down on the floor next to Max, who smiled broadly and handed him an action figure. "Thanks, sweetie. Who is this?"

He made one-sided small talk with Max until Mr. Anderson returned carrying a tray with two cups of coffee, sugar, milk and cream.

"I don't know how you take it, so I brought a little bit of everything," he said, as he sat on the couch. He smiled when he saw Kurt was sitting on the floor. "I see you two are getting acclimated already."

"Oh Max was telling me a fascinating story about this superhero, who's in love with that teddy bear over there, but their love can never be, because Teddy has been promised to Miss Bunny since they were children…" Kurt said, and Max laughed as if he had understood every word. Mr. Anderson chuckled as well.

"I would ask how you even come up with that stuff, but I have been reading your papers for several semesters already," Mr. Anderson said, as Kurt joined him on the couch. "You're a very creative person, Kurt. Have you thought about writing for a living?"

Kurt put some milk in his coffee. "I have, but not fictional work. I hope to end up working for a fashion magazine one day. I've sent my résumé to about a hundred, but no one seemed interested." He did his best not to sound too disappointed in himself. It was difficult.

"Well, I've heard the fashion world is pretty cut-throat. You just need patience and dedication, and I'm sure it'll work out sooner or later," Mr. Anderson said, watching Max, who was crawling towards his box of toys.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Kurt replied, halfheartedly. "But I guess this kind of works out for your benefit and mine."

"It really does," Mr. Anderson nodded. "Did you bring your schedule?"

"I did," Kurt said, and grabbed his bag to search for it. "I actually included my hours at Starbucks, but I'm working almost full time there now, covering for coworkers and picking up extra shifts. I could cut back on that, or even give it up entirely, depending on what you had in mind."

Mr. Anderson studied Kurt's schedule in silence for a moment. "The good thing is your classes don't coincide with any of mine, except for Modern Lit, of course. But my friend Sam is available at that time; he's been taking care of Max for me these past couple of weeks. But some of your shifts do match with my work schedule…" He frowned for a moment, then looked up at Kurt, slightly worried. "I don't want you to feel forced to give up that job if you don't want to."

"Well, Mr. Anderson…" Kurt started, but he interrupted him.

"Kurt, please call me Blaine. Mr. Anderson sounds weird in my own house," he said gently.

"Blaine," Kurt tried it out. It felt a little weird. "To be honest, if the offer you made when we talked on the phone yesterday is still on the table… that was more than what I earn at both of my jobs combined."

"Taking care of a kid is a bigger responsibility than making coffee," Blaine said, his golden eyes fixed on Kurt. "You should see that reflected on a paycheck. And I think I mentioned how important Max is to me. I don't want to leave him with any random nannies he doesn't like just because they are available. You would need to sacrifice your current job, but I already know how great you are with him. I'm willing to pay for that peace of mind."

Kurt looked down at his schedule for a moment. He had been at Starbucks for years now. It wasn't an ideal job and there were times when he couldn't wait to walk out that door and never walk back in. Sometimes he was so frustrated that he wanted to give up coffee altogether, before he remembered he would actually murder people without caffeine. But he liked some of his coworkers and his supervisor had been nice to him. It had helped him pay the bills for a long time now. He couldn't exactly complain.

But what Mr. Anderson – Blaine – was offering…

"Of course, whenever Max is asleep or playing or doesn't need you, you can bring your schoolwork, or read a book, or watch the television," Blaine was starting to sound desperate now. "You can feel at home here. I don't work on weekends, so you'd have Saturdays and Sundays off. I would rarely need you on week nights…"

Kurt decided to put him out of his misery. "Mr. Anderson… I mean, Blaine, like I said the other day, I'm in. You don't have to worry. I'll see what I can do about Starbucks, but if I have to quit, I'll quit."

Blaine had been holding his breath, and quickly deflated in relief when he heard Kurt's words. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

"I know," Kurt said quietly. "It means a lot that you thought of me, too."

They were silent for a moment, both revealing in the peace it brought them to have come upon a solution for their problems. Kurt couldn't wait to tell Rachel and his dad all about it. They would finally stop worrying so much.

As they finished their coffee, they worked out a schedule that was perfect for the both of them. Then, Blaine gave him a quick tour of the apartment, so he would know where everything he needed was. The only room where Max wasn't allowed in was Blaine's office, which was a mess of ungraded papers piled up on the desk.

"I should get to those," Blaine said. "It's hard to do any grading when Max demands so much attention. I usually have to wait until he falls asleep, and then I can barely read two or three before _I'm_ falling asleep."

Kurt was currently holding Max, who seemed absolutely fascinated with his green cashmere scarf. "Okay, how about this? I can distract Max for, let's say, two hours, so you can work a little. And it'll work as some sort of practice before I have to be alone with him."

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked. He glanced at Max and then at his undone work. "I don't want to keep you on a Saturday…"

"I think I'll benefit from some practice, to be honest," Kurt said, shrugging. "If I have any questions about where something is, or about something Max needs, it's better if I have you here, than if I suddenly have a question and you're at work."

Blaine sighed. "I'm loving this decision of hiring you already. Thanks, Kurt. That sounds perfect."

So Blaine went into his office, and let the door ajar so he could listen to Kurt if he needed anything. Kurt went back to the living room and sat with Max on the floor again, and they played for a while before Max started becoming more and more crabby.

"What's wrong, little guy?" Kurt asked him, picking him up. "Are you hungry? Is that what it is?"

Max made a gurgling noise, almost like a protest.

"That means he's hungry!" Blaine exclaimed from his office.

Kurt chuckled under his breath. "Looks like your Uncle Blaine is eavesdropping on our conversation, Max."

It was almost lunch time, so Kurt went into the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator. Blaine had showed him the stack of pre-made food he had already available. He grabbed a plastic container marked as "Saturday - Lunch", and put it in the microwave.

He thought about Mr. Anderson as he put Max in his highchair, and about the stack of containers in the fridge. It looked like Mr. Anderson - _Blaine_ \- spent every available second on making sure Max's needs were satisfied. He knew that was the kind of thing a parent did, but in which point did it stop being healthy for the parent, or in this case, guardian?

And most importantly, who was making sure that Blaine was safe and happy, too?

The silence that reigned in the apartment while Max enjoyed (and made a mess of) his meal seemed to be all the answer he needed.

* * *

For the first time on the semester, Blaine was early for work on Monday. So early, in fact, that he had time to stop by the cafeteria. With two coffee cups in hand, Blaine headed to Sam's office, in the far side of campus.

When he walked in, Sam was speaking on the phone. He made a gesture that Blaine interpreted as a hasty invitation to take a seat. He put Sam's coffee in front of him, and savored his own as he waited.

"I promise. It won't be a waste of your time," Sam was saying earnestly. "This kid is a freaking star. You should see him on the court. He can throw from one end to the other and make it every single time."

Blaine smiled into his coffee. So it was a scout Sam was talking to. Blaine had always loved the way Sam cared about his students, about their futures, how he always did his best to make sure they had a shot at what they loved.

"Great. I'll see you on Friday. You won't regret it," Sam said, before ending the call. He looked at Blaine with a smile. "Hey buddy! What are you doing here?"

Blaine shrugged. "Had some time to kill before my class and I thought you'd want some coffee. Was that the scout for the kid you told me about the other day?"

"Yeah, Collins. He's coming to the basketball game on Friday. You should come, it's going to be awesome," Sam replied, leaning back against his seat and studying Blaine carefully. "Why do you look different?"

Blaine frowned. "What do you mean?" He raised his hand to his hair, suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no, it's not a haircut. There's something about your face…" Sam narrowed his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Blaine sipped some more coffee. "You're imagining things."

"I think you look less tired. Did you have a good weekend?" Sam asked.

"It was completely ordinary. But I did sleep better," Blaine shrugged again. "I finally fixed my Babysitting Situation."

"Oh, that's great, man! Did you contact a new agency?"

Blaine told Sam how he had figured out how to help Kurt Hummel and find a solution to his problem, at the same time. He told him about Kurt coming over on Saturday to talk things through, about how wonderful he had been with Max. He told him how he had gone to bed feeling a little lighter - he still had a lot to deal with, but knowing Max was safe with someone who took care of him while Blaine couldn't be there himself made things a lot easier.

"It's great, you know," Sam said afterwards. "What you're doing for this kid, I mean. You're paying him a lot more than any other nanny or babysitter in this town is making these days."

"He needed a good break. No one that age should struggle the way he did, all to help his family. He's a great guy. He deserves it," Blaine answered. He had never had to care all that much about money - he came from a pretty wealthy family, and he was doing more than okay for himself. Cooper and Sarah had also left him and Max everything they owned, so Max's needs would be covered for several years to come. It was the only area in his life where he could call himself beyond lucky - and he would have given all that financial comfort away if it meant it brought him his brother back.

Sam smiled. "You know, I think you made a really good decision here."

Blaine, who felt a lot calmer than he had in months, had to agree. "I really think so too."


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn't difficult for Kurt to get used to working for Mr. Anderson. It wasn't only that the hours were so much better than they had been at any of his previous jobs, but also that the company had improved a lot.

There were no more bitter ladies throwing lattes at him, although during their first morning alone together, Max had spilled his orange juice all over Kurt's impeccable shirt. But since the action was followed by the biggest pout Kurt had seen to date, and not an angry outburst, he wasn't half as mad as he would have been in ordinary circumstances.

"You're lucky you're cute, Max," Kurt had said, pointing a menacing finger towards him, before dropping a quick kiss on his soft, baby-smelling head, and grabbing a wet cloth to clean himself.

Whenever Max was asleep or distracted watching one of his favorite cartoons, Kurt sat down next to him and got to work on a paper or his assigned reading. He got so much done that, for the first time in a long, long time, when the weekend arrived, he was actually free to enjoy it.

He had no idea how he had gotten so lucky. When Blaine came home every day, just before he left, Kurt thanked him again for the opportunity.

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine said warmly one afternoon, leaning against the doorway and looking at him with a sweet smile. "You keep saying that. There's no need to thank me."

"Oh, but there is," Kurt replied.

The sudden financial safety Kurt felt was invaluable. He was still nowhere near debt-free, but he knew he didn't have to worry about where the money would come from, if it would be enough, if he would be able to help his parents. He went to bed every night and actually fell asleep right away, without spending hours and hours staring at the ceiling, worried.

It also didn't hurt that his father's voice was full of relief when they talked on the phone now. Knowing Kurt wasn't slaving himself for him and Carole reduced his stress greatly. There was only one thing he was concerned about now.

"So I take it you're coming home for Christmas, right?" Burt asked, his tone clear and sure, expecting Kurt to simply comply.

Kurt bit his lip. "I hope so, Dad."

"What do you mean, hope? If things are better, then you should be able to come home," Burt insisted.

"I need to talk to Mr. Anderson about it," Kurt explained as patiently as he could. "I have no idea what his plans for Christmas are. He might need me."

"Kurt," Burt said, and now he sounded tired. "It's Christmas. Please, come home."

Burt Hummel never asked for anything. All his life, he had only given, given, given. And now the only thing he wanted was to see his son for the holidays.

Kurt felt his heart break in a million pieces. It wasn't only that he didn't know if Blaine needed him. He also hadn't gotten his first salary yet, and the very little money he had left from Starbucks and The Happy Fucking Bean wasn't enough for the trip home.

"Of course, Dad," he promised, without a single idea of how he was going to manage. "Of course."

* * *

Later that week, Kurt arrived at their apartment just as the first few snowflakes began to fall densely outside. He pushed the door opened, as he brushed the few flakes that had caught in his hair. He could see Rachel sitting on the couch, her back to him, as he dropped his bag on a kitchen table.

"Hey Rach!" He said. "I didn't know you were home already! It's lucky you're not at the theatre - it looks like it'll be snowing like hell in a bit…"

He knew something was wrong because Rachel didn't even turn or acknowledge his presence. Frowning in confusion, he made his way towards her, and only then realized what was playing on the television.

They were old videos, recorded during their high school days, mostly during show choir competitions, and a few rehearsals. As he watched, coming closer to stand by the couch, Finn's face appeared on the screen, his eyes glinting as he sang.

"Rachel…" Kurt murmured, unsure. Her silence was so unusual, he wasn't sure how to handle it.

"He truly was so, so handsome, wasn't he?" She whispered, and it was clear by her voice that she had been crying hard. "Remember when we came to New York for Nationals and he took me out on that date? I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest, I was so happy. Back then it just felt like… like we really could have _forever_."

Kurt sat on the arm of the couch and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "It always feels like that, when you're young."

"I was so silly. There were times when he was so lost, and I was so self-absorbed that I couldn't even see it…" She shook her head, her wet eyes still fixed on the screen, where Finn was now attempting a few awkward dance steps. "I should have seen it."

"You were young, too. We all were," Kurt sighed, and his chest ached. No matter how long it had been, Finn's absence was still so fresh, so painful, it made him hurt like he was losing him all over again. "What's going on, Rach? What happened?"

"Nothing," Rachel answered, reaching for a box of tissues. "It's just… the holidays, you know? It's always hardest this time of the year."

"I know." Kurt did know. It was always so difficult, not to think about the empty place at the family table, the missing stocking on the fireplace… "But you were okay this morning. Did… did something make you think of it?"

"You know Derek, the guy from the theatre?" She asked, and when Kurt nodded, she continued: "He asked me out today. I… he's been flirting with me for a while, but it seemed innocent, I never thought he was serious. And today he said he would like to take me out for dinner, go ice-skating, the whole romantic Christmas date… and I just… I couldn't…"

"It's okay, Rach," he said softly, rubbing her shoulders in comfort. "If you like him, I mean. If you wanted to say yes. Finn would want you to be happy."

"I _can't_ , Kurt," She blew her nose noisily, and her paper tissue flew to the floor to join all the other ones she had already dropped. "I just know, deep down inside of me, that no matter how hard I try, no matter how amazing the guy I meet is, no one will ever be him. I already found my one true love, and I didn't fight hard enough to keep him with me."

"Oh honey," Kurt moved closer, sat on the couch next to her, and pulled her into his embrace. Rachel fell into his arms like she couldn't even hold her own bones for another second, like even carrying her own skin had become the hardest thing to do. "I miss him just as much as you do. I know how difficult it is to go back home for the holidays and find that he's not there, again. It's losing him over and over all the time, and it doesn't stop hurting. Everything about this is just so unfair, but… we can't give up. And if you think you might have a shot at happiness with Derek, or with any other guy that might come along… then I think you owe it to yourself to at least try. And you owe it to Finn, because your happiness was the most important thing for him."

"I just feel like I've been playing a part since he died," Rachel whispered, burying her face on his chest. "You must think I'm crazy for feeling like this now, because I've dated a few guys in the past couple of years, but… I just…"

"I don't judge you. We all cope in different ways. And Rach, he's been gone for longer than a couple of years," he said sadly. "You have the right to live your life."

"Nothing ever felt right after him," she murmured. "I tried. I thought I could move on, but I just… how do you even move on?"

Kurt didn't have a proper answer. He wasn't sure he had moved on at all either.

"You know, every time a guy kisses me…" Rachel laughed, humorlessly, her eyes growing dark. "I cry. I just cry."

"I'm sorry, Rach," Kurt kissed the top of her head. "I wish I could just give you a medicine for a broken heart, but… there is none. Only time."

"But how much time, Kurt? How much longer?" She asked, pleadingly, and again, Kurt had no answers for her.

The only thing he could do was hold her as heart-wrenching sobs made her body shake against him.

* * *

It was a miraculously good morning. Blaine had woken up with the alarm, but for once Max hadn't started crying for attention as soon as he realized his uncle was up. The baby had just kept sleeping peacefully, giving Blaine some precious alone time with his cup of coffee.

Thanks to Max's unexpected kindness, Blaine had time to spare that morning, so he got dressed and sat at the kitchen table to grade some papers while he waited for Kurt to arrive.

A knock on the door announced his arrival only ten minutes later. Blaine had given him a key to the apartment, but Kurt still insisted on knocking every time. Blaine rolled his eyes as he walked to the door.

Kurt was also early - he wasn't supposed to get there for another half an hour, but Blaine was glad. It would give him time to stop by Starbucks on his way to campus for a second cup of coffee.

However, all thoughts of extra caffeine consumption abandoned his mind as soon as he opened the door. Kurt looked terrible - almost as bad as he had that day when he broke down at his office. Although he was impeccably dressed, not a single hair out of place, there was something about his eyes that blared an alarm in Blaine's head. There were dark marks under them, too, as if he hadn't gotten enough sleep the previous night.

"Hey Kurt, good morning," he said, as he moved aside to let him in, not taking his gaze out of him.

"Good morning, Mr. Anderson," Kurt replied softly. He put his bag down on the couch. "I mean, Blaine, sorry."

Blaine watched him for a moment as Kurt began to unbutton his black coat. "Is everything okay, Kurt?"

"What? Yeah, sure. Everything's great. Where's Max?" Kurt asked, looking around, as if expecting the baby to come crawling towards him.

"He's still asleep, believe it or not," Blaine said. He gestured towards the kitchen. "I have time before I have to leave. Care to join me for some coffee?"

It looked like Kurt was ready to throw himself at the coffee pot. "Oh yes, please. I would love some."

Blaine allowed Kurt to take two large gulps of coffee before he tried again. "Are you sure everything's okay? You look like something's troubling you."

"Is that a polite way to say I look like shit?" Kurt rolled his eyes tiredly, and the vocabulary was just another indication that something wasn't right. Kurt was nothing short of perfect in his presence. "Just tired. I stayed up talking to my roommate, and I just couldn't sleep much after that."

Blaine didn't want to pry. He wasn't Kurt's friend - it was more than okay if he didn't feel like sharing his every day issues with him. But it was clear he was upset, and Blaine couldn't just leave him, go to work, pretend nothing was wrong. On one hand, he wanted to make sure Kurt was up to taking care of Max, that he wasn't leaving his nephew with someone who just couldn't own to that responsibility today.

On the other hand, he really cared about Kurt. He wasn't sure how that had happened, but the need to help him almost burn him up inside.

"Look, I don't want to force you to talk or anything," Blaine assured him, softly. "But I also can't leave the house without knowing you're okay to be here with Max today and that…"

"Oh my god," Kurt's eyes grew wide, and he sat up straight. "Of course I am! I'm sorry! I don't want you to think… I'm fine. I won't screw this up. Max is safe with me. I'm still… no matter what happens in my personal life, I just… I'm fine. I can do this. It won't affect my job. I…"

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted, because the outburst only worried him more. He frowned. "Calm down. I believe you if you say you can take care of Max. But I don't believe for a second that you're fine."

It looked like Kurt having trouble breathing. His eyes had filled with tears as he talked, and now his knuckles were going white around the cup of coffee, like he was fighting hard to stop himself from crying. Blaine tentatively reached out, brushed his hand with the tips of his fingers, a questioning look on his face, and the dam broke.

Kurt's face fell, the sadness in his eyes overpowering everything else. His shoulder sagged, and Blaine realized he had been making a huge effort to act like nothing was wrong. He couldn't help but wonder how often he had to pretend like that. How did a guy so young look like the whole weight of the world was on his shoulders?

Instinctively, he pushed his chair closer to Kurt's and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay, Kurt."

"It's not okay," Kurt whispered, his voice a lot more controlled than Blaine expected, one more proof that Kurt had a lot of practice pretending he was fine. "I just… why is everything so hard? Why is everything so unfair?"

"Why don't you tell me what's bothering you? Maybe we can find a solution," Blaine offered patiently.

As Kurt talked, Blaine wondered if Kurt had anyone he could talk to freely at all. It looked like he had been sheltering his emotions from everyone he knew, trying to keep them safe and protected… but at what cost? His own sanity? His own well-being?

Kurt told him about his heartbroken friend, Rachel, who still couldn't deal with losing the love of her life. He told him about his Dad, who wanted nothing more than to have him home for Christmas, but Kurt still couldn't afford the plane tickets. He told him about how the holidays seemed to be choking him on all fronts, trying to pull him in different directions. There was always someone who needed something from him, and he wanted to give it willingly, but he wasn't sure how much more he could remain cheerful and positive for others before his own spirit broke in a million pieces.

He told him he missed his brother, and this Blaine understood more than anything in the world, with all his heart.

"And how is it that I always end up spilling all my problems on you?" Kurt asked, as he dried a couple of rebel tears hastily. "How haven't you fired me yet?"

Blaine chuckled softly, and rubbed Kurt's back for a moment, hoping to comfort him. "It's fine. I think we've established on plenty of occasions that we just can't avoid sharing our problems with each other." Kurt tried to smile, but failed. "Look, Kurt… I'm happy to be here for you for whatever you need. If you can't talk to anyone else about these things… then I'm here. It's worst to keep it all bottled up."

"I know. And I promise I'm okay to stay with Max," Kurt replied earnestly. "I won't ever do anything to screw this up."

"I believe that," Blaine smiled at him. "You're great with him."

There was a small pause, and Kurt stared into his now-cold cup of coffee. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Blaine said, and then bit his lip. "Uhm. Is there… Can I help you in any way? I mean, not with your friend Rachel, unfortunately, but maybe I can give you some money in advance to…?"

"Oh, god, no," Kurt said, eyes going wide. "Please. You do enough for me. I can't ask you…"

"I'm offering…"

"Please, Blaine, don't make me…" Kurt began to say, but Max finally decided to wake up then, and Blaine rushed out of the kitchen to go get him.

By the time he went back into the kitchen with the baby on his hip, Kurt was washing the breakfast dishes, acting as collected as usual, and Blaine was almost late for work. It looked like it was his destiny to keep running to be on time for everything, even on mornings that promised to be slow and easy.

He kissed Max's head before placing him on his high chair, and stopped besides Kurt at the sink for a moment. "Call me if you need anything, and… please, if there's anything I can do…"

"You have done way more than your share already," Kurt said with a warm smile. "Just go. See you later, Professor Anderson."

Blaine wasn't sure why there was such a tight knot in his stomach all of a sudden, but he carried it with him for the rest of the day.

* * *

The following afternoon, when Blaine arrived home, Kurt was sitting on the floor with Max, a children Christmas movie playing on the TV. Max seemed entranced with all the colors, the songs, the magic, and Kurt was almost as lost in the movie as he was. Neither of them heard the door closing behind Blaine.

"That's Santa," Kurt told Max, pointing at the screen. "If you are a very, very nice boy, he will bring you lots of presents. But if you're naughty, like I was one year, he might only bring you discount coupons for Ocean Pacific, and trust me, no one would ever want that."

Blaine couldn't help but laugh, startling both Kurt and his nephew, who immediately crawled towards him to welcome him home. "I thought Santa gave coal to naughty kids."

"Yeah, but I was particularly bad that year, I didn't even deserve coal," Kurt said with a little smile, brushing his jeans as he stood up.

"Do I even want to know what you did to receive such oh horrible present?" Blaine asked, picking Max up and hugging him close.

There was a twinkle in Kurt's eye, the corners of his mouth rising a little. "I can't give away any details, but it involved my Great Aunt Fiona, her poodle, and lots of pink hair dye."

Blaine laughed good-naturedly. It was hard to remember when he had felt so light last. This apartment certainly hadn't been filled with this kind of sound in a long time. "You are one of a kind, Kurt," he said, in a soft, warm voice.

Kurt smiled a little, and they both just _looked_ at each other. For a moment, Blaine was frozen, like his eyes couldn't stay away from him. Kurt, self-consciously, started bouncing on the heels of his shoes, before he sighed and just picked up his bag to leave.

"Oh, Kurt, before you go…" Blaine balanced Max a little on his hip, so he could reach into his bag for an envelope he had been carrying with him most of the day. "This is for you."

Kurt frowned and crossed the living room towards him. "What is it?"

"Just open it," Blaine said.

Kurt curiously opened the envelope and extracted two pieces of paper from it. His blue eyes (hadn't they been grey the previous morning? Blaine thought) widened. He looked up at Blaine and then back again, shocked. "These are… these are plane tickets."

Blaine smiled at him. "Consider them a sort of Christmas bonus."

Kurt hastily put the tickets back into the envelope and tried to push it into Blaine's hands. "No, no, no. I can't… I can't accept them. It's too much."

"Kurt," Blaine said, taking a step back so Kurt couldn't reach him. "They are yours. I'm not returning them, so if you don't use them, they'll go to waste."

"I can't… Blaine, _god_ , this is…" Kurt stared at the envelope, like there wasn't anything he wanted more than what it contained. "You can't do this… I can't repay you…"

"Do you see this?" Blaine asked, pointing at Max's face, who was smiling, clearly entertained by the silly adults. "That smile is worth more than all the plane tickets in the world. You help make Max a happy little boy. I'm the one who will forever be indebted to you."

"But…" Kurt hesitated. "I… we haven't even talked about Christmas. I'm not sure if you need me, if you have plans, if I need to be here for Max…"

"Not at all. I'll be free from work, so I can take care of Max by myself," Blaine explained. "We're not really doing anything for the holidays."

At this, Kurt frowned. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

Blaine shrugged a little, and his eyes found Kurt's again. "It doesn't feel very festive right now," he said, and Kurt understood.

"I'm sorry," Kurt replied, like it was his fault. "I'm sorry…"

"It's fine, really," Blaine said, although it wasn't. "We will just pretend Christmas doesn't even exist. We'll be two perfect little Grinches. I just don't… I don't think I have the energy to worry about the tree and the decoration, and the cookies… it's just… brings back a lot of…"

He let the sentence hang in the air, too heavy to even finish it. He was supposed to be giving Kurt a happy surprise. He didn't want to see him so sad again.

"But you should go home, see your family, have fun," Blaine continued, before Kurt even had time to think of something to say. "We'll be okay."

"Blaine, I just…" Kurt looked back down at the envelope, and by the way his eyes filled gradually with tears, Blaine knew he was thinking of his dad. "Thank you so much. _Thank you, thank you, thank you…_ " And as he kept mumbling the same words over and over again, like a mantra he couldn't stop chanting, he wrapped his arms around both Max and Blaine and held them close.

Blaine's hand, trapped against Kurt's chest, was pressed right to his heart, and he could feel its pounding. He used his other arm, the one he wasn't holding Max with, to wrap Kurt up in an embrace as well.

Blaine was glad that at least one of them would have a chance at a merry Christmas.


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt would never forget the sound of sheer happiness his father made when he told him he would be coming home for Christmas, after all. He would have loved to record it so he could replay it over and over again when he had a bad day. Everything, _everything_ was worth it as long as it resulted in Burt Hummel being _that_ happy.

And Kurt owed it all to Blaine Anderson.

If just a couple of months ago someone had told Kurt that Professor Anderson would become such an important part of his life, someone he cherished as much as he cherished his family, he wouldn't have believed it. Sure, the guy was a good teacher, passionate and kind, always patient… but he was his professor, nothing more.

Today, he was like a lifeline.

When Kurt had felt so close to drowning, twice had Blaine reached for his hand and pulled him up towards the surface.

And, this time, Kurt wanted to be the one to pull him up for a breath of much-needed air.

* * *

Blaine was locking up his office door at the end of the day when he heard a voice calling for him down the hallway, another professor from the English Department, waving at him as she entered her own office. "Happy Holidays, Blaine!"

"Thanks, Nat! Happy Holidays to you too!" He replied, trying to imprint the words with a joy he didn't feel. In fact, they felt so heavy in his mouth, it was almost like he was choking.

He thought he had this under control. He thought he could just ignore all the holiday cheer around him, pretend nothing special was going on, go home and bury himself under a blanket until Christmas break was over. But it's everywhere, impossible to miss, decorations in gold and red all over the city, twinkling lights hanging from balconies, snow men wearing Santa hats in the park, Christmas music playing loudly in grocery stores and elevators. He had never before noticed the insane amount of mistletoe people put up, or the completely unnecessary Christmas themed coffee options that the New York City cafés offer. Gingerbread praline latte? Seriously?

As he walked off campus, wrapping his green scarf around his neck a little tighter, because it was so cold that his breath came out practically frozen in front of him, he realized he was truly turning into a Grinch. But he couldn't bring himself to care - there wasn't much to celebrate in his life, not this year.

Max's first Christmas and his parents weren't around to see him sit next to the Christmas tree and open his presents.

Blaine felt a little pang of guilt - Max's first Christmas. He kept telling himself that Max was too young to notice the absence of Christmas cheer, the lack of tree and decorations. But shouldn't he had made a little effort, push past his own misery, do something nice for his nephew? It wasn't Max's fault. He deserved the best Christmas in the world.

But Blaine's strength and energy were all focused on getting him through the holidays. He wasn't sure he could manage much more.

He navigated the crowded streets, people carrying multitudes of bags, last minute Christmas shopping. There was one Christmas memory, a day he thought about every year, but that this year hurt, burned his heart like he was throwing it into the chimney.

Blaine had been fourteen years old, and had just come out to his parents. Hugh and Andrea Anderson hadn't been pleased. It had been obvious in the way Blaine's dad got up from the couch and disappeared down the corridor without saying a little word. It had been obvious in the way Blaine's mom simply stared at him like she didn't know who this child was at all. By the time Christmas rolled around, a few weeks later, neither of them had said anything yet. They simply ignored it, like they hoped Blaine's confession would disappear if they didn't talk about it. But Blaine still noted the simple, silent changes - how his mother stopped touching him even in the smallest of ways, no more careful brushes of her hand on his forehead if he said he didn't feel well, no more wrapping her arm around his shoulder casually, no more kisses on his curls before he left for school. And his father… oh, Blaine didn't even remember seeing his father those days. It was like he was always at work. Or maybe he was just avoiding his gay son.

Neither of them admitted it, but when Mr. and Mrs. Anderson announced a couple they usually played tennis with on the weekends had invited them to their cabin in the lake for the holidays, Blaine still knew it was because they didn't want to be with him.

"It's parents only," Andrea said, not even looking at him as they told him and Cooper their plans over dinner one night. "The Richardsons aren't taking their kids either."

But Blaine had heard the Richardsons' kid, David, talking about it in school, about how he was going to the lake with his parents for the holidays, how they were going to throw a party, how the fireworks on New Year's Eve would be the best and loudest Ohio would ever see.

He didn't say anything. What do you say to the people who are supposed to love you the most, when it's clear they want nothing to do with you?

"That's absolute bullshit," Cooper said out of nowhere, and the other three Andersons just turned sharply to stare at him.

"Cooper!" Andrea exclaimed, scandalized. "What…?"

"Do you think you're going to change Blaine by isolating him like this?" He said angrily, and until then, Blaine hadn't realized just how upset Cooper was about all this. He had assumed his brother was on his side, but Cooper hadn't been so vocal about it. Until now. "You two are the biggest hypocrites. This is your kid! Look at him!" He practically screamed, and their parents simply averted their gazes, as if they couldn't even stand glancing in Blaine's direction. "I said, look at him! He's your son, and he needs your support! This is how you treat him?"

Blaine could see Cooper's hands shaking. He reached across the table and touched his brother's wrist. "Coop, it's okay…"

"It's not okay," Cooper spat, standing up abruptly. Hugh and Andrea stared at their golden boy, their perfect son, who suddenly seemed to be a million miles away from them. "It will never be okay. But _we_ will make it okay. You and me, Blaine. We'll have our own holidays, and these two jerks aren't invited."

He grabbed Blaine's hand and pulled him out of the dining room, their father's voice booming across the house, demanding Cooper to get back in there immediately and apologize for his insolence.

Cooper didn't even blink, nor did he turn back around.

On Christmas Eve, they sat together in the living room, Blaine's favorite Christmas movies playing on TV, and they roasted marshmallows on the fireplace for dinner ("We are going to get it all over the carpet," Blaine had said, worried, and Cooper only replied "Fuck the carpet."). They made a fort with the couch cushions and slept by the Christmas tree, and in the morning, with sleepy eyes, they unwrapped their presents for each other, simple and cheap, but more valuable than any expensive ones their parents could have gotten them.

That was the day Blaine knew he would always be able to count on his big brother.

He just expected to have him around for a longer, _longer_ time.

It took everything he had not to burst into tears in the middle of the street.

By the time he made it home, he felt exhausted, jaded, and disheartened. There wasn't anything he wanted more than to do everything he could to make Max happy, but right now… it all felt like too much.

His apartment was like a little pocket of warmth when he opened the door. There was a delicious scent invading every corner, and soft music playing in the living room. He started unbuttoning his coat, trying to mask his face into something less depressing. "Hello? Max, Kurt? I'm home!"

"Over here!" Kurt's voice called, and Blaine followed it into the living room.

He stopped in his tracks.

There was a medium-sized tree in the corner by the window, fairy lights twinkling away in a sea of primary colors, reflecting the ornaments hanging from the branches. Every bookshelf was outlined with tinsel and surprisingly classy red bows, and there were two stockings hanging over the windowsill, stitched carefully in curly handwriting: _Blaine_ , _Max_. On top of the coffee table, there was a large plate of freshly-baked cookies, which explained the sweet scent. White Christmas was playing quietly in the background, and when he looked at Kurt and Max, both staring at him hopefully, he realized they were both wearing the ugliest Christmas sweaters he had ever seen in his life.

"What… I… how is this…?" Blaine babbled stupidly.

"Merry Christmas!" Kurt exclaimed, and Max raised his arms in the air and shouted a few words that made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but still managed to convey his excitement.

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine mumbled, stepping closer, knowing his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were too wide, but unable to do anything about it. "What is all this?"

Kurt bit his lip as Blaine examined the tree, marveled. "I hope I'm not overstepping. I know you said… I know you said you were not doing anything for the holidays this year, and that it was fine, but… I just… I understand how difficult this time of the year can be. I understand how the empty spaces seem to become so heavy, and so obvious and… I hated thinking of you and Max alone here, being sad."

"Kurt," Blaine repeated, because he didn't know what else to say.

"And this is Max's first Christmas," Kurt continued, a little nervously. "I know it won't be the happiest holiday in his life, and I know it'll be even more difficult for you. But he deserves a little magic, and so do you. And I know decorating your apartment doesn't really fix anything, but I was hoping… I was hoping maybe you'd look at the pretty lights, eat a cookie or two and find even the smallest reason to smile."

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine said once more, because it was the only word he was capable of. This wonderful, wonderful man's name.

"I…" Kurt seemed becoming more and more anxious at the lack of Blaine's actual response. "The tree is mine and Rachel's. It's artificial and it doesn't smell as good as a real one, I know, but it was more practical and cheaper so… and neither she or I will be at the apartment for the holidays, and we thought you might enjoy it more, instead of letting it sit alone in our apartment… and uhm, some of those ornaments were my mom's, but Max and I made a few new ones today, and you can keep those, uhm, if you'd like…"

Blaine spotted a round clay ornament, the shape of Max's hand engraved in it with his name underneath, and touched it reverently, like it was the most precious thing he had ever seen.

"And now I'm starting to become a little worried that I tremendously screwed up and finally overstepped," Kurt muttered with a shaky laugh that showed he was only half-joking.

Blaine swallowed with difficulty and turned towards them. " _I'm_ starting to think you were the best thing to happen to me this year, Kurt Hummel," he said, and Kurt's cheeks became so red he almost burst on flames.

He wanted to tell him: This is the nicest thing anyone's done for me for the holidays since Cooper stood by me when I was fourteen.

He wanted to tell him: You make me want to be strong and put aside my own pain and be there for Max, because isn't that what _I'm supposed to do_?

He wanted to tell him: I didn't think I could ever come across someone as inherently good as you.

He wanted to tell him: Sometimes you make me forget what sadness is, and when you leave I remember.

He didn't stop to think about any of those things, or what they meant. Instead, he said the only thing that truly seemed to encompass everything he was feeling and was totally insufficient at the same time: "Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt's face lit up even more than the Christmas tree. "You're welcome."

* * *

The text messages started almost immediately.

The first one said: _Kurt, I'm sorry to bother you, but have you seen Max's blue bunny? We can't find it and he's getting restless._

Kurt was just checking into his flight, so he replied one-handed, his other arm loaded with his coat and his carry on: _Last time I saw it, it was in his bedroom. Check under his crib, just in case._

Blaine's reply was almost immediate: _There it is! Max says thank you. Let me know when you land, so I know you made it home safely._

Kurt smiled at his phone as he made his way towards his gate: _Will do! Thanks again for this, Blaine. Can't thank you enough._

He got one more text from Blaine just before he was supposed to turn his phone off to take off: _Don't mention it. Have fun with your family x_

Kurt wished he could say something to Blaine as well, ask him how he was holding up, how Max was doing… but he didn't want to push. He didn't want to remind Blaine of any of his reasons to hurt.

He tried to relax during his flight. He had brought a couple of magazines with him that he hadn't had time to flip through until now. He was determined to enjoy his break, to relax, to focus on his family… but still, as soon as he landed, he turned his phone back on, and messaged Blaine: _Landed safely in Ohio._

He didn't have time to see if Blaine replied or not, because after picking up his luggage, he went out into the main hall and immediately found Carole amongst all the other people waiting to welcome their family members back for the holiday. There were entire families gathered there, hugging each other, loud in their joy, and suddenly Carole's lonely welcome seemed almost sad.

After holding her tight enough to almost break her ribs, genuinely happy to see her, he pulled away, frowning without being able to stop himself. "Where's Dad? Why didn't he…?"

"He's fine," Carole reassured him at once, grabbing his carry on from him. "It's just too cold, and I didn't want him driving. He must be pacing a hole into the living room floor as we speak."

Kurt's heart beat a little out of time. He knew it wouldn't regain its normal speed until he could see his Dad. "How is he doing, Carole? Honestly."

Carole hesitated, her eyes not meeting Kurt for a moment, as they made their way towards the exit. "Well… He's not a kid anymore, Kurt."

"I know that," Kurt answered, a bit frustrated. "But I mean… I mean…"

He didn't want to ask the question in his head. He didn't want every single hope he had shattered if he didn't like what Carole had to say. So he let his voice shut down, and Carole didn't say anything.

The silence became a threat.

* * *

Just as soon as they opened the door, Kurt was enveloped in a hug. The smell of his Dad's cologne filled his senses, and he dropped his luggage to wrap him arms around him, burying his face on Burt's shoulder, and _squeezing_.

How could he have thought he would survive the holidays without this? How would he have managed to get through it without his Dad, without his strong arms around him? _Oh god, Blaine, thank you, thank you, thank you…_

"Let me see you, let me see you," Burt said, pushing Kurt gently back, but keeping his hands on his kid's shoulders, grey eyes travelling all over him. "You look good, kiddo. Have you been eating well? Have you…?"

"I should be the one asking all the questions," Kurt chuckled. And then he got a good look at him, watched this man who had raised him, who had made him who he was…

Burt Hummel had always been a big man. He would have lived off cheeseburgers and beer if Kurt hadn't bullied him into taking better care of himself. But no matter how many salads he forced him to eat, Kurt had never quite managed to make his Dad lose that pudgy belly.

It was gone now.

Burt looked _thin_. The change was noticeable even in the shape of his face. Kurt's heart stopped for a moment, and he felt the sudden urge to buy all the junk food in the world, just as long as his Dad looked a little thicker again, a little more full of life.

Carole was avoiding his eyes.

Was there something they weren't telling him? Kurt felt like screaming. They wouldn't hide any bad news from him, would they?

Right now, though, it didn't look like Burt had any bad news to share. His eyes were shinning, his lips stretched into a huge smile, already leaning down to grab Kurt's luggage.

"Come on, kiddo, I'll help you to your room, and then we can chat, and have some lunch," he said, sounding happy and satisfied, and _Kurt didn't understand_.

"Please, Dad, let me," he hurried to say, grabbing the biggest suitcase from him, and Burt groaned in protest, but complied.

They took the luggage upstairs, to Kurt's old room. It always felt smaller, every time he visited. Like his life, his experiences, his dreams kept outgrowing the place where he had been a scared kid who barely made it through high school, where he had made his own clothes from scratch because there was no store in Ohio that could truly provide for what he wanted, where he cried and laughed and waited to get out of here forever…

Burt said he was going to let Kurt get settled and freshen up. He went downstairs to help Carole with lunch, and Kurt sat on the edge of the bed, looked around, and told himself not to cry.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, distracting him from the painful tugs of his heart, and he was so grateful to find a new message from Blaine: _I'm glad you made it! I would like you to know Max and I were super brave and went to the supermarket on Christmas Eve. We made it out alive, though I nearly had to wrestle with an old lady dressed entirely in purple for the last can of green peas._

Kurt couldn't stop the little smile that appeared on his lips as he read the message. He typed a reply: _Wow, I leave for one day and you two are already attacking poor little grandmas? (Also, purple? Really? Am I feeling a Barney vibe or…?)_

They exchanged a couple more of text messages before Burt's voice echoed through the house, announcing lunch was ready. Kurt took a deep breath, put his phone down on the bed, and went back downstairs to rejoin his parents.

There was only one thing that mattered right now, that he needed to focus on: They were together. That was the most valuable thing in the world.

* * *

That night, Kurt couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, but no matter what he did, his brain wouldn't _shut up_. Nothing exasperated him more than staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to come, feeling so awake that he could just keep his eyes open forever. So he kicked his blankets off, reached for an old, comfy cardigan to put on top of his pajamas, and left his bedroom, trying to be quiet as he went down the stairs towards the kitchen.

He was suddenly aware of the absolute silence that fell on the neighborhood. Despite having lived here most of his life, Kurt was now so used to the noisy restlessness of New York, the city that never sleeps. But here… there was no sounds of traffic, no music playing from another apartment, no sirens wailing in the night.

It almost made Kurt nervous, how still everything seemed.

Once in the kitchen, he moved from one cabinet to the other, and to the fridge, almost without realizing he was doing it. He was as restless as his beautiful city, couldn't bear the idea of sitting down, of lying down and waiting for sleep to come to him.

By the time Burt came to join him, Kurt had finished with the crust already, placing it neatly into a pie plate, and was whisking eggs on a bowl. His father announced his presence first with his heavy footsteps as he came down the stairs, and now with a little chuckle as he watched his son.

"I had a feeling I would find you here," he commented, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

Kurt didn't turn around, too busy adding milk to the eggs. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I could bake a pie for tomorrow."

Burt came into the kitchen. The chair scraped noisily against the floor as he moved it to sit down. "What are you making?"

"Custard pie," Kurt replied, reaching for the vanilla and almond extracts. "With a little nutmeg."

"Your Mom's recipe." Burt said.

"Your favorite," Kurt muttered, in confirmation.

They didn't talk until the pie was in the oven. They simply minded their own business - Kurt, with his whisking, and then pouring the creamy custard on top of the crust; Burt, just contented watching his son. When he was done, Kurt put everything on the sink to wash later, and sat at the table, across from his father.

"How are you, Dad?" He asked, and now he _was_ tired. Just getting those words out exhausted him. "And please, be honest."

"Not great, kiddo," Burt said, leaning his arms on the table. "It's been a few rough months."

"Is there…? Can I help?" Kurt felt like a child asking this question. He couldn't grab a crayon a draw his father a new, healthy heart. But he wished there was something, anything, that he could do.

Burt sighed. "You and me know there's not much to do when it comes to these things," he said. "I'm not getting any younger, Kurt. I can eat all the healthy, vegan food that you want, and I can go for walks and do exercise, and take care of myself… but it just won't reverse the damage that's already there."

Kurt swallowed with difficulty. The kitchen was slowly being invaded by the sweet scent of the pie being baked. It seemed such an unlikely contrast, that sweetness and the sudden sour taste in his mouth. "You're talking like you're a hundred years old. You're… you're not that old, Dad. This is stupid."

"Kid, like I said… it's not up to us. We can't choose when it's our time to…"

"Don't say it, don't say it, you can't say it…"

"Kurt," Burt frowned, clearly anguished by the look of defeat and fear in Kurt's eyes. "After your Mom… and Finn… we know. We've learned our lesson. We can't choose. It will happen. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even next year or the one after that… but at some point." He paused, reached for Kurt's hand, gave it a firm squeeze. "And all I want, all I can ask for right now, is that you're prepared, and that you won't let whatever happens to me devastate you."

"You can't…" Kurt shook his head. Denial was his best friend right now. "You can't ask me that."

"Yes, I can," Burt said, just as firmly as his hold on his son's hand. "I can ask this of you, Kurt. Because you're a strong man, who's had to live through an unfair amount of grief, but who has bounced back every time. And I trust you to be able to get back on your feet and not let anything, not even something that happens to me, defeat you. Nobody pushes the Hummels around, Kurt. Certainly not something as trivial and unavoidable and mundane as death."

Kurt sucked in a sharp breath, as if he hadn't expected his father to actually use _that_ word. "This is insane… it sounds like you're saying goodbye. You're not saying goodbye, Dad. It's not time for that. Not yet."

"No, not yet," Burt said, patting his hand. "But at some point. And you need to come to terms with it before it eats you up inside. We are all going to die, Kurt. Some people die way too early, before their time. We know that, because of your Mom, and because of Finn, and those are the deaths that hurt the most. They had so much to live for, so much ahead to enjoy. Your Mom didn't get to see you become this amazing man you are today. And Finn… god, Finn. Eighteen years old. It doesn't get more unfair than that. But I've lived my life, short or long, Kurt, _I've lived it_. I had your Mom, I had you, I had Carole and Finn. It was a rich life, and I made sure of it every day, since your Mom taught me how quickly it can end, how much every day matters. So I'm not afraid of it, but I am afraid of being alive to see you stress and worry and overwork yourself the way you did these past few months."

Kurt wiped his tears off his cheeks hastily. "Dad, that's not…"

"Don't deny it, kid. I'm not stupid."

"I'm not stupid either," Kurt said stubbornly. "And I know you and Carole are struggling financially. All those hospital bills…"

"Sure, those things are expensive, and we're trying to pay them off," Burt shrugged, like it wasn't important. "But we have the garage, and Carole's got her job, and we'll manage, the same way we always did. I don't need my kid to work himself to death for any debt, big or small. Don't you see, Kurt? It's all meaningless: money, and debt, and even jobs sometimes, when you're not passionate about what you do. You won't take any of those things to the grave. The only thing that matters is family, the people who love you, the time you spend together. The only thing that matters is your own happiness, because that's what will make your life worth living."

Kurt covered his face with his hands, trying to push back the overwhelming sob threatening to climb up his throat, trying to calm himself. "God, Dad…"

"Come here, kiddo," Burt mumbled, and Kurt didn't need to hear another word, he practically threw himself towards his father, right into his arms, and into a big, warm hug.

They held each other, tight and close, until the over timer made Kurt jump, startled. Burt chuckled and let him go before the pie got burnt, and watched as Kurt got it out of the oven and set it on the countertop to chill for a while, before rejoining him at the table.

"So… how's that new job? Are you any happier with it? Because I want you to do what's best for you, Kurt, not whatever you think you need to do for Carole and I," Burt said, focusing his clear eyes on him seriously.

"Surprisingly, I love it," Kurt answered. "Max is adorable, and such a well-behaved kid. It breaks my heart to think how he lost everything at such a young age, but Blaine is amazing with him, no matter how much he doubts that."

"Blaine," his father repeated, carefully studying his face. "That's your teacher, right?"

"Literature professor, yes," Kurt said. "He's a great guy. I…" He glanced at his silent cellphone on the table next to him. Blaine and him had texted back and forth all day long, silly, little meaningful texts throughout the day. Kurt tried to send him things that would make him laugh, hoping it would made the first Christmas without his brother even a little easier, though he knew nothing would ever make the first holidays without a loved one easy. It was a matter of time, of letting the heart heal… "I'm so grateful. He's been incredible, and he didn't have to help me at all. He's so generous and sweet and…" Burt was making a strange face at him, and Kurt frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," Burt said, but he looked like it was actually _something_. "Tell me about Max. How old is he?"

Kurt couldn't stop the small smile blossoming on his face at the mention of the little boy. So he told his father everything, not sparing a detail, both so entranced on their conversation that they didn't notice the minutes ticking by on the clock. They talked and talked - first about Max, and Kurt's job, and his classes, and then how Burt had been managing the garage, having to hire a couple more guys to make up for the manual work he couldn't do anymore - until it was so late that it was actually early, the sky slowly lighting up in the horizon.

By the time Kurt crawled back into bed, he was so tired he didn't have time to worry, to wonder at the possibilities. Burt's words and the time shared with him lulled him to sleep, wrapping him up like a warm, soft blanket on that cold Christmas morning.


	10. Chapter 10

With a cup of coffee in his hands, Blaine sat on the couch, staring at the Christmas tree and waiting for Max to wake up. The lights twinkled, filling the apartment with the kind of holiday cheer he didn't feel deep inside of him.

It was difficult. He hadn't imagined just how difficult today would be.

Christmas Eve had been a quiet affair, just him and Max watching movies and heading to bed early. But he hadn't been able to fall asleep, could hear a church's bells ringing in the distance at midnight mass, people walking down the street in the cold, Christmas carols echoing through the walls. Blaine had never noticed just how much Christmas really meant in New York. It was as if the city's essence was made up with it, like it became alive during the holidays.

Sam had asked him to join his family a million times, insisted it would be okay… but he just couldn't bring himself to do it, to go, to pretend he was alright. His heart was heavy, and the only thing he wanted was to wrap his nephew in his arms and hold him tight. Max's first Christmas.

He thought about Cooper. Oh, he would have loved dressing up as Santa for his kid, watching Max's eyes fill with delight as he handed out presents. He had always been a performer, after all.

Blaine took a sip of coffee to distract himself from the tears threatening to spill down his face. He didn't want to be upset. He wanted to make Max's first Christmas as good as possible, but it was _hard_. It was so hard.

His phone vibrated with a new text message. He smiled when he saw it was from Kurt: _Merry Christmas, Blaine. I know it's probably a bittersweet day, but I hope you can find a reason to smile today. Send my love to Max. I'm here if you need to talk._

After another sip of coffee, he replied: _Thank you, Kurt. You just gave me one._

It took a few seconds for Kurt to send a text back, and it only said "?"

He could hear soft noises coming from Max's bedroom, which meant his nephew was about to wake up. He typed quickly, before leaving the phone on the couch to go check on him: _A reason to smile. Merry Christmas._

* * *

After lunch, Blaine needed fresh air. He could only stay in his apartment so much with his own thoughts and Max's favorite cartoons playing on the TV in the background (what was it with children shows and those maddening, stupid songs?) before he began feeling claustrophobic. So he grabbed Max's warmest jacket, placed him in his stroller, and they were off to the park.

It looked like they weren't the only ones who thought about enjoying the snowy Christmas day outdoors. There were families all over the park, building snow men, taking cute pictures together, looking like it was the happiest day in their lives.

Blaine sat on a bench and watched as a little boy nervously tried to learn to ride his shiny new bike. He was a bit wobbly, knuckles white on the handles, lower lip between his teeth in concentration. And then his father approached, put a hand on his back and another on the bike, and whispered in his ear, teaching him, guiding him, making sure the kid knew he was on his side. Doing exactly everything a father was supposed to do.

It felt like someone was squeezing Blaine's heart inside his chest. He glanced inside the stroller, at Max, his nephew, the most precious boy who had ever lived, who would never get a chance to have his dad teach him how to ride a bike. Cooper would never be there to send him to his first day of kindergarten, or help him with his homework, or to his first baseball game.

All Max got was his lousy uncle, who felt lost most of the time, who was never sure of a single thing he was doing, who did his best to raise him the right way, but had never been prepared for such a huge job in the first place. Why was it fair that some boys got it all, when others lost so much?

He couldn't even give Max a proper, happy first Christmas.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," he murmured into the stroller, and Max looked at him with big, breathtaking blue eyes. "You deserve better."

Max smiled at him. He did that, sometimes, just smile out of nowhere, dazzling him with how much he resembled Cooper, more and more every day. "He's such a happy little boy," Kurt would tell him when he did that. "Look at him. He adores you."

Blaine tried very hard to believe that. He worked and tried and _breathed_ with the only purpose of making this kid happy. He owed it to his brother. He owed it to Cooper.

The boy in the bike managed to ride a good distance on his own. Face flushed with happiness, he jumped off the bike and right into his father's arms, laughing, as his mother took a million pictures of them.

That one really looked like a proper, happy Christmas.

Blaine stood up. He made sure Max was warm enough, and then pushed the stroller out of the park. They went home.

* * *

Sam arrived back in New York on the 27th, and called Blaine to let him know he would be stopping by his apartment that night. Blaine was happy to have his friend back, so he promised to wait for him with pizzas and beer.

"Look what Santa left under my tree for you, Max!" Sam exclaimed in a high, excited voice after Blaine opened the door. "Look, buddy! Look!"

Max made grabby hands for the neatly wrapped present. Sam gave it to him immediately, and the two adults watch him fumble with the pretty green bow for a while.

"What do you say, Max?" Blaine said. "Can you say 'Thank you, Sam!'?"

Max tugged on the bow and said: "Guh!"

"Thank you!" Blaine repeated enthusiastically.

Max didn't even bother to pay more attention to him. He was too busy destroying the wrapping.

"He's nine months old, dude. Leave him alone," Sam said, as he removed his jacket. "How are you? How was Christmas?"

"It was okay," Blaine said, not feeling like getting into any details. "How's your family doing?"

Sam wasn't stupid. He knew when Blaine was trying to change the subject, to deviate the conversation so he wouldn't have to talk about himself. He didn't like thinking of Blaine having a miserable Christmas, but Cooper's absence was something he couldn't heal - only time could help his friend now.

They watched Max play with the big red train Sam had brought him as they sipped beer and talked. Sam gave him enough room to breathe, didn't ask any questions that might upset him, and Blaine was content just listening to Sam's stories about his family. He _liked_ Sam's family, they always made him feel welcome.

"You should have come," Sam said in the end. "I mean, I wouldn't really want to expose you to my aunt Mary after a few glasses of wine, and my dad almost strangled Stacie when she said she wanted to drop out of school to become a country star, but… it was nice. I wish you'd been there."

"I appreciate it, Sam, but I really can't impose on all your family holidays from now on," Blaine said, bumping his shoulder. "You're a good friend, though. Really." He smiled at him. "But maybe we can do something for New Year's Eve? I mean, I can't offer you to go to any crazy parties or anything, because I have Max, but maybe we can hang out?"

And now Sam looked visibly uncomfortable. "Oh! Uh, actually… oh man, I wish you told me sooner that you wanted to do something on New Year's Eve. I… I made plans already." He bit his lip, frowned. "I guess I could cancel? If you really want us to hang out?"

"Oh, no, man, please. If you already made plans, then it's just fine. Are you seeing your family again?" Blaine asked, curiously.

"No, I've got a date," Sam shrugged, like it didn't matter, but his cheeks were slightly pink. "I met her today, to be honest. She was sitting next to me on the plane."

"That's great! Tell me about her."

"Her name's Mercedes. She sings at a jazz club. She's, uh, well… pretty cool," Sam was still blushing, and if he hadn't found it so endearing, Blaine would have tease him mercilessly about it. Running a hand down his face, Sam groaned. "I gotta be honest here, man, she smiled at me and I went all weak in the knees."

Blaine chuckled. "She sounds amazing, Sam. I hope I can meet her someday."

"Let's just get through the first date, and see if she doesn't run away from me, okay? Then we can talk about that."

"Well, if you ask me, a New Year's Eve date sounds perfect. It can be such a romantic moment, you know. The countdown at midnight, the fireworks, the kiss…" Blaine nudged him with his shoulder again.

"Mm, it does sound nice…" Sam mumbled, and for a moment his eyes glazed over, like he was suddenly lost in some kind of dream. He shook his head minutely before coming back to reality. "This actually gives me a perfect excuse to ask you something. I want you to do something very, very important for me."

Blaine's eyebrows went up, wondering what this was about. "Sure, man, what is it?"

"I have someone I want to introduce you to," Sam said, and continued talking as soon as he realized Blaine was opening his mouth to protest. "Blaine, he's a good guy. He's attractive, kind, smart. He's an old college friend. I just bumped into him a few days ago, and we got to talk a bit… he's single, loves to go to the theatre, loves children… he's sort of perfect for you."

"Ugh, Sam, come on. Blind dates are never good ideas," Blaine said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hated when people tried to set him up. "Besides, I'm… busy. I don't have time to date right now."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"What?"

"Why don't you have time? What's making it so difficult to you to go out and grab some dinner with a guy?" Sam crossed his eyes over his chest and stared at him. "Give me one good reason why you can't - one good, logical reason - and I won't bother you about it anymore."

"I… I have too much work," Blaine said, stupidly.

"That is not true. We're currently on winter break, and even if we weren't, one night won't throw your schedule off for a whole semester."

"I can't leave Max," Blaine tried again.

"Also not true. You have spent weeks talking about how amazing this Kurt kid is, how responsible and helpful. I'm sure he won't mind watching Max for a few extra hours," Sam replied, and the bastard looked so smug, like Blaine would never defeat him at this game.

"Sam…"

"Blaine."

"You know things are too complicated…" Blaine muttered.

"They are simpler than you think, you just like stressing obsessively about everything," Sam insisted. "Look, Blaine… you can't put your life on hold forever. Believe me, I understand things have definitely been difficult for you these past few months, and that you needed to adapt. But I'm also aware that you haven't dated or even thought about dating since that idiot went to Greece without you…"

"His name is Jason," Blaine interrupted.

"His name is Asshole, because he was a heartless son of a bitch. You called him to let him know about Cooper, and he said he was sorry for your loss but _had already paid for the plane tickets so he was going anyway_ ," Sam said angrily. "Do not defend him."

"We weren't exactly in a committed relationship, Sam. He didn't have to cancel everything. It wasn't his tragedy to deal with," Blaine shrugged helplessly.

"Don't act like you don't care. You were devastated, Blaine, and you liked him, and he didn't give a fuck."

Sure, Blaine had been devastated. But Jason leaving on their perfectly planned romantic trip alone hadn't been what made his heart so irreparably broken. There had been deepest pains to deal with.

"Please, Blaine," Sam said softly, placing his hand on Blaine's shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. "I never ask anything of you. I don't want anything from you, just to see you happy. And it kills me that you won't even try. I don't know why you are punishing yourself, because it's not your fault that Cooper's gone. Stop giving yourself more reasons to hurt. You deserve a happy life."

Blaine sighed, tiredly. There was some true in Sam's words, even though he wasn't so eager to admit it. "Fine. I'll go on a date with your friend," he agreed, and Sam made a triumphant gesture. " _One date_ , Sam. That's all I promise. And after New Year's. I need to wait for Kurt to be back from Ohio so he can stay with Max."

"Whatever you want, buddy," Sam said, with a huge, smug grin.

Sometimes, Blaine wished he could _hate_ Sam.

But the truth was he had no idea where he would be without him.

* * *

On New Year's Eve, Max managed to fall asleep at his usual bedtime despite how increasingly loud the city was. Blaine could hear, all the way from his apartment, the sound of innumerable parties. Braving the weather, he went out into the balcony for a little while, and watched the street, filled with people coming and going, celebrating the end of the year, and the beginning of a new one.

What was it about New Year's that seemed so magical? There was nothing extraordinary about it - the sun set, and then it came up again and it was just a new day, but people used the turn of the calendar as an excuse to change their whole lives, to find a new purpose, to chase after that one goal they couldn't seem to pursuit otherwise.

As he stood outside in the December cold, Blaine wondered if there was any resolution he wanted to commit to.

Happiness, he thought. It would be nice to find that again.

His pocket buzzed with a new text message. He wasn't shocked to discover it was from Kurt - they hadn't really stopped texting each other in the past few days, like they were holding a long, completely casual conversation from miles apart.

His new text said: _Hope you and Max are having a nice NYE. Give him a little kiss on the nose for me at midnight, would you?_

For the millionth time, Blaine found himself smiling down at his phone as he typed a reply: _I will have to do that in the morning, since he's already asleep. My New Year's Eve isn't particularly crazy. Are you having fun?_

Someone who was clearly wasted already began singing loudly down in the street. Blaine leaned over the railing to take a look, and realized the drunk boy was attempting to do a version of _You've Got a Friend in Me_. Blaine watched him, amused, as his friends tried to drag him towards a cab, until his phone buzzed again: _It's just me and the TV, I'm afraid, waiting for the ball to drop._

The cold seemed to be seeping through his clothes and right down to his bones. With one last look down at the street, Blaine went back inside and closed the balcony door quickly, trying to keep the warmth of the apartment intact. Impulsively, he pressed the call button on his phone and dropped down on the couch.

"Hey," Kurt's voice said, all the way from Ohio.

"Hey," Blaine echoed. "No fun parties in Lima?"

Kurt huffed indignantly. "Have you _ever_ been in Lima?"

"Not really," Blaine answered, reaching for the throw on the back of the sofa. "But I take it from your tone of voice that I am not missing out."

"Not at all. You're fine in New York. Never leave New York, Blaine. All the wonderful things you need are right there," Kurt said wistfully.

"Missing the city already?" Blaine asked. He grabbed the remote control and changed the channels on the TV until he found Dirk Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve.

"I always miss the city when I come here. If I could take my parents back to New York with me so I never had to set foot on Ohio again, I would be the happiest guy in the world," Kurt sighed dreamily, like he couldn't think of anything better.

Blaine chuckled. "Where are your parents now?"

"They went to bed already." There was a small pause, like Kurt was hesitating, and then he finally said: "My dad's not doing so well."

Blaine felt the heaviness of those words, pressing down on his chest. He couldn't even imagine how hard it must have been for Kurt to even say them. "That's… I'm sorry, Kurt. Is there anything I can do to…?"

"God, no," Kurt muttered, breath huffing out of him in a rush. "Blaine, you've been… more than amazing already. And even if I could ask more of you right now… well, unless you have a medical degree that I don't know of…"

Blaine smiled sadly into the phone. "Sorry to disappoint."

"It's fine. He's… he's going to be just fine," Kurt said, and Blaine thought he was comforting himself more than talking to Blaine.

He somehow understood that Kurt needed a moment. Blaine's eyes fixed on the television, where a blonde popstar was singing, wearing clothes that couldn't possibly be enough for the raw New York weather. After a few seconds, he said: "Kurt? No matter what, remember that the most important thing you can do right now, what your father will value the most, is spending time with you. I know it's probably hard not to think about all the things that could go wrong, but don't let that take precious moments with him away from you."

"I know," Kurt whispered, so quietly that Blaine thought for a moment that he had imagined it. "I know that. If what happened with Finn taught me _anything_ …"

"Hardest lesson there is," Blaine said softly.

"Hardest lesson there is," Kurt agreed.

Blaine opened his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue, but hesitated. He wondered if Kurt could sense it, because he remained silent, exuding patience, as if he was waiting for Blaine to gather the courage he needed.

"Does it get any easier?" He asked at last.

The good thing about talking to Kurt was that he never needed any sort of clarification. He always knew what Blaine meant. "It does."

"These holidays…" Blaine laughed, humorlessly. "God, they were the worst."

"Our first holidays after Finn died were terrible, too," Kurt replied. "Carole was… god, Carole was a wreck. It's hard losing a parent, a grandparent, even a brother… but losing your child…"

Blaine didn't even want to try to grasp the pain that would entail. "I don't think you can ever come back from that."

"No," Kurt said. "You can't."

Blaine bit his lip. In any other circumstance, he might have stopped to think why it was so damn easy to spill his every thought, his every feeling, to one of his students. He might have stopped and think why it was so damn easy to put his heart on Kurt's hands, and trust that he would know what to do with it.

Wasn't Blaine the one supposed to know better?

"I couldn't stop thinking about Cooper," he admitted. "It's like every memory I had of him suddenly rushed back, and they almost drowned me."

"It's too recent," Kurt said. "It was too unfair. And poor little Max… it just shatters my soul to think about it. So you must feel…"

"Yeah," Blaine agreed breathlessly. It was so nice to feel understood.

"You know, I'm not a religious person," Kurt murmured, and there was a sound in the background, like water being poured. He guessed Kurt was making himself a hot drink. "But it always did comfort me to think that my Mom was with me, somehow. That every time I was happy, she was smiling with me, and every time I was sad, she was holding me, even if I couldn't feel it."

Blaine listened to Kurt talk, so much wisdom in his voice, so much peace and confidence. He couldn't imagine going through that many losses at such a young age. His mother, his brother… and all the scares his father had given him throughout the years…

"I think Max is going to feel that, too, when he needs it," Kurt continued. "And he's going to know two things: that his parents loved him more than anything else in the world, and that he can always count on his cool Uncle Blaine."

Blaine chuckled. "Cool, huh?"

"Don't make me say it again, you know it's true," Kurt teased.

Blaine smiled at the TV. The countdown to midnight was getting closer. "Thanks, Kurt. You always know the right thing to say."

"You're welcome," Kurt replied, his voice soft and quiet in Blaine's ear. "It'll get easier, Blaine. I can't tell you when or how, but it will, eventually."

"I know. And your Dad…" Blaine shook his head. How could he offer the comfort Kurt needed? He was clearly so much better at it than he could ever be. "Just… try not to worry too much, okay? I know it's difficult, but if you're always waiting for the worst to happen, you forget to enjoy what you have now. You never know. If he's as stubborn as his son, he might just outlive all of us."

He could tell Kurt was grinning by the tone of his voice. "You have no idea."

Through the phone, Blaine could hear the echo of the TV, Kurt watching the same channel. The people in the screen began chanting the numbers: Ten, nine.

"Who the hell did Ryan Seacrest's hair this year?" Kurt said, making Blaine laugh suddenly at how offended he sounded. "Wait… is that a toupee? Have we gotten to the point where Ryan Seacrest is wearing a toupee?"

"That's what you're looking at? Look at Dick Clark. His tan makes me nervous. His hands are completely white and his face is almost orange," Blaine answered. Eight, seven.

"Oh god, cannot be unseen," Kurt groaned.

Six, five, four. There was a small pause, but it was charged with something that Blaine couldn't quite identify.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered.

"Yeah?"

Three.

"It's good to hear your voice."

Blaine closed his eyes. He was going to miss the ball dropping, but he didn't really care. "It's good to hear yours."

Two.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

One. Blaine could hear the roaring of people celebrating, fireworks suddenly lit up the New York sky, and he knew soon he would have to go check on Max, make sure he didn't wake up scared with all the noise.

"Happy New Year," he said, not sure if his voice was loud enough to not be drown by the celebration.

"Happy New Year, Blaine," Kurt said, just as quietly.

And somehow this, a phone conversation between two people miles apart from each other, was more intimate than any midnight kiss Blaine had ever gotten.


	11. Chapter 11

He was not falling in love with Blaine Anderson.

Those words kept echoing over and over again in Kurt's head. He checked his bag at the airport ( _I am not falling in love with Blaine Anderson_ ), walked to his gate ( _I am not falling in love with Blaine Anderson_ ), sat in the waiting area with a coffee to kill time until his flight ( _I am not falling in love with Blaine Anderson_ ), and he very, very stubbornly told himself to stop being such an idiot.

An innocent crush? Sure, he could handle that. Kurt had thought Blaine was attractive the first time he had seen him, stepping into his classroom wearing a blue sweater vest and carrying a stack of old, well-loved books. Back then, Mr. Anderson's charming appearance was a cause of motivation to get up insanely early for his Wednesday Lit class. He was nice to look at. That was not a crime.

Right now, falling in love with him - even considering it a possibility - was almost dangerous.

 _I'm just in desperate need of a boyfriend_ , Kurt thought as he got comfortable in his seat once he was on the place. _It's been a while. I should go out more. There is just no way I'm falling in love with Blaine Anderson…_

His whiskey eyes, the rich tone of his voice, the gentle way in which he curved his hand over the back of Max's head when the baby fell asleep in his arms, the smile stretching his lips when he opened the door for Kurt in the morning…

 _I'm not blind, he's attractive. But he's also my boss_ and _my teacher. Could not get any more complicated. Could not be any more inappropriate. Seriously, Kurt, as soon as you get to New York, you're finding someone you can go on a date with. New Year's Resolution._

He had enough to worry about without silly teenage crushes. Including the fact that he seemed prone to develop feelings for any man who showed even a smidge of decency to him.

_God, be any more pathetic, will you?_

He leaned back on his seat and closed his eyes. There was so much to do when he got home. A whole new semester to get ready for, to keep his mind occupied. There was no need to think about Mr. Anderson's beautiful smile and…

 _That's it_ , he though. As soon as he got home, he was letting _Rachel_ set him up on a blind date.

* * *

The beginning of the new semester meant life went back to being hectic, not enough time for breakfast in the morning, replying emails about faculty stuff, setting up office hours. But this time, Blaine didn't really mind. He welcomed the feeling of always being so busy, kept him distracted from some of the dark thoughts he'd had over the holidays.

Blaine sipped his coffee as he waited for Kurt. It was snowing lightly outside, New York City turned into a winter wonderland, like it was clinging to the holidays to never let go. But the charm of Christmas lights, trees in every window, was gone now. It was back to reality for all of them, and no one was grateful like Blaine was.

There was a knock on the door, and Blaine pulled away from the counter, where he had been leaning watching Max play under the table on his mat, to open it. Kurt was wrapped in a lovely maroon coat, snowflakes caught on his shoulders, on his hair, even on his eyelashes. He was flushed with the cold, cheeks pink, lips dark.

"Hey! Look who's back, Max!" Blaine exclaimed with a bright grin, moving aside to let Kurt in.

Max looked up at the sound of his name, and his gorgeous blue eyes widened in obvious excitement before he began crawling desperately towards Kurt, sitting at his feet to make grabby hands up at him, all the while babbling incoherently in his sweet baby voice.

Kurt laughed and immediately bent to pick the boy up, hugging him close to his chest. "Hi Max! Did you miss me? I missed you so much."

Blaine closed the door and watched them, smiling. "Well, I can't say he's ever received _me_ like that…"

Max made delighted sounds as Kurt swayed him side to side, like they were dancing together. "Oh shush, there's no need to be jealous. Max has enough love for the both of us." He placed a kiss on the kid's tiny nose. "So, ready to get back to work?" He asked, as he put Max back down on his play mat to unbutton his coat.

Max protested by throwing a teddy bear against the refrigerator.

"No, Max, darling, don't do that," Kurt reprimanded him sweetly but firmly. "Teddy gets super sad when you throw him around. Go get him and put him right with Miss Bunny, before he starts crying."

Max blinked up at him for a moment, before he crawled towards the teddy to bring him back to the play mat.

Blaine's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "The Baby Whisperer returns."

Kurt rolled his eyes, delighted laugh bursting out of him. "Oh please. He's an angel. So, work?"

"Oh, yeah!" Blaine replied, going towards the coffee pot. "I'm actually glad to get back, even if I'm going to be regretting that in about two weeks. This semester's bound to be a terribly busy one. Are you in any of my classes again?"

Was Kurt blushing again or was it the cold still painting his cheeks pink? "I am, actually. Contemporary Lit."

"Ah, so many great authors to read. I'm looking forward to getting to all the Beat Generation authors the most. I love teaching Kerouac," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's favorite blue mug from the cabinet and filling it with coffee, before handing it to him.

"Kerouac? I've never actually got around to reading anything by him. Some people say he's overrated," Kurt shrugged and took a sip from his coffee.

Blaine arched an eyebrow at him. "Then I take back what I said. What I look forward to the most is proving those words wrong."

Kurt smiled at the challenge in Blaine's eyes. "Can't wait."

After a few minutes, Blaine kissed Max's head, squeezed Kurt's shoulder goodbye, and left for work. The snow welcomed him into the streets, the cold already sipping into his very bones, and Blaine didn't mind.

It was a new year. Maybe it was going to be a better one.

* * *

Kurt had truly, truly missed Max, and only now that he had him back in his arms did he realized that. The sweet little boy had become a part of his life so quickly, so effectively, that now his days seemed a little emptier without him. He loved that innocent smile, the deep blue of his eyes, the words he kept babbling at him, completely meaningless and meaningful at the same time. He loved sitting on the floor, for once not caring about wrinkling his pants, and playing with him for hours, or just cuddle him as Max stared at the TV, mesmerized by a Disney movie.

Maybe he had got it all wrong - maybe it was a different Anderson he thought he was falling in love with.

After lunch, once the mess of mashed potatoes and peas was all over and cleaned up, no signs of the meal on Max's cute face, Kurt put him down for a nap and found himself with a few hours to kill until Blaine got home. Usually, he brought school work with him, so he could catch up while Max didn't need him, but since the semester hadn't officially started for him yet, he was free in a way he hadn't been in a very long time.

He began to change the channels on the TV, but nothing held his attention for longer than a few minutes. There were a few magazines on the coffee table, but nothing he could find interesting (he didn't know Blaine was into sports, huh). In the end, he got up from the couch and began to browse Blaine's bookshelves.

He had never paid much attention to them, except for the family pictures on the frames. There was something so intimate about going through someone's personal library, that he had felt like it would be overstepping. But Blaine had offered, back when Kurt started working for him, free use of his books whenever he wanted, when he wasn't busy with Max.

He ran a fingertip over the spines, reading titles. There were old, leather-bound volumes, and well-loved paperbacks. There was a particularly thick volume of Shakespeare's works, and two copies of Dante's _Inferno_. He found a first edition of _The Lord of the Rings_ , and _The Handmaid's Tale_ signed by the author. He had all the _A Song of Ice and Fire_ books, and all of the _Harry Potter_ series, and a shelf dedicated exclusively to poetry, and another one for authors of different nationalities. He scanned the pages of Jorge Luis Borges' _The Book of Sand_ , and found a copy of Rimbaud's _Les Ilumminations_ in French.

He didn't realize his heart was thumping rabbit-quick in his chest until he paused for a moment, taking it all in.

Kurt couldn't explain why, but just looking at this felt like looking into Blaine's soul. He was unraveling his mysteries, knowing the deepest parts of him, and all without Blaine needing to even be in the room with him. Blaine was a man rich in words, and every single book looked like a puzzle piece, like Kurt was putting them together to understand.

Some books even smelled like him.

Shaking his head to try to clear it a little, Kurt grabbed Kerouac's _The Dharma Bums_ from the shelf and took it to the couch with him.

The snow kept falling slowly outside as Kurt read page after page. He got up once to check on Max, who was still sleeping peacefully, and made himself some coffee. Then he went back to the living room, curled up with the book and continued reading.

He couldn't stop.

_Are we fallen angels who didn't want to believe that nothing is nothing and so were born to lose our loved ones and dear friends one by one and finally our own life, to see it proved?_

Two hundred pages devoured in just a couple of hours. Max made a noise from his bedroom and Kurt went to check on him, only forty four pages more to go, and helped the little boy out of his crib, changed his diaper. Kurt was so absorbed in his reading that he was glad it was time for the annoying little show that Max loved, the one with the catchy songs that drove Blaine crazy. Max curled next to Kurt on the couch and watched his show, and Kurt read his book, and the afternoon was perfect.

Blaine arrived home a little before four, and found them there, cuddling and quiet, each in their own world. He recognized the book in Kurt's hands and leaned on his elbows on the back of the couch to look at him.

"Got a head start on your assigned reading, I see," he said with a smile, and Kurt looked up at him, eyes dazed from all that reading.

"I love it," he murmured softly. "I didn't think I would but…"

"Overrated my ass," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. He looked down at Max guiltily. "Sorry, kiddo. You didn't hear a word."

"Is this book going to be in the syllabus? Which one should I read next?" Kurt asked eagerly.

" _On the Road_ is the one in the syllabus, actually," Blaine explained, walking to his shelf. "It kicked off the whole Beat-Generation period, so I kind of had to include that one. But if you really liked this one, you should try _Big Sur_. It's the best he's done, in my opinion."

Blaine walked back to the couch, another paperback in his hands, and gave it to Kurt.

"Sorry for going through your books," Kurt said as he stood up, shrugging apologetically. "I couldn't resist."

"It's always a pleasure to see someone enjoying them, so don't worry about it."

Kurt gave him a quick review of Max's day, which hadn't been particularly exciting, before putting his coat on to get ready to brave the weather and go home. Blaine walked him to the door.

"I was actually meaning to ask you…" Blaine said, as Kurt wrapped his scarf around his neck. "If you'd mind working extra hours on Friday night?"

Kurt slid his bag's strap over his shoulder. "Sure, no problem. They got you working on a Friday night?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm actually going out on a date. My friend Sam insisted he has the perfect guy for me."

Kurt felt slightly breathless. "Oh. That's… that's great. What, uhm, what time should I be here?"

"Can I get back to you on that? I'm supposed to call this guy tonight and agree on a place and time," Blaine replied. "I'm really sorry to ask you this. I'm sure you have more exciting plans for a Friday night."

Kurt blinked and did not tell Blaine he had zero plans. No plans at all. Nada. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Thanks, Kurt, you're amazing."

Kurt left, and as he walked to the subway station, he told himself that the extra weight he felt he was carrying had everything to do with the book in his bag, and nothing to do with the fact that Blaine had a date.

* * *

Rachel was still slightly subdued. She reminded Kurt of one of those old television sets - no matter how many light comments or jokes she made, she still looked gray, colorless, as if something fundamental was missing. He knew there wasn't much he could do except be with her, offer his comfort, let her vent when she needed it, but it still killed him every time he looked at her, wearing her broken heart on her sleeve no matter how much she tried to hide it.

On Friday afternoon, when Rachel got home from the theatre, Kurt was busy in the kitchen. She kissed his cheek hello and watched him take a tray of freshly-baked cookies from the oven.

"How was your day, Rach?" He asked, placing the cookies on the counter and moving them onto a rack to cool.

"It was good," she said quietly. The fact that she didn't immediately fill him in on every single drama that had most likely transpired that day only confirmed that she was still in a weird mood. "Would you like to order a pizza and watch a movie tonight?"

Kurt sighed. "I'm sorry, I have to go back to work. Blaine asked me to watch Max tonight because _he has a date_."

He didn't mean to make it sound like it did, a little sharp, as if he thought the idea of going out on a date could be potentially stupid and maybe even dangerous.

Rachel arched an eyebrow at him. "Does he, now? And why the long face?"

"What long face? This is not a long face. My face looks perfectly normal, thank you." Kurt pretended to be very interested in his cookies.

Rachel leaned against the counter and stole a cookie from the rack before he could stop her. "Do you have a crush on him or something? I mean, you always used to say he was attractive…"

"Oh, please. It wasn't always. I may have mentioned it. Once, twice. Maybe three times," Kurt protested, indignantly. "It wasn't more than four times."

Rachel huffed out a little laugh. "Kurt, you took a class with him every semester, despite the fact that it has nothing to do with your major."

"Now you're making me sound like a hormone-crazed teenager," Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "He's a great teacher, Rachel. That's all."

"Yeah, sure." Rachel rolled her eyes. "So, he has a date."

"He does. Apparently one of his friends set him up. I mean… I'm happy for him? He deserves to go out and have fun and stop worrying so much, but I…" Kurt groaned. "Okay, fine. I have a little crush. I'm just being stupid. Don't encourage it."

"I wasn't going to," Rachel shrugged and stole a second cookie. Kurt didn't even try to stop her this time. "It is definitely not a good idea for you to fall in love with the guy who's not only your professor, but your _boss_."

"I know," Kurt gave up and grabbed a cookie too. "And it's not like anything is ever going to happen, so…" He chewed his cookie thoughtfully. Once he said his next words, there would be no going back. "Maybe I should try the dating thing again. It's been a while. Do you think you could…?"

"I have like three perfect guys in mind already," she interrupted. Kurt wasn't sure he liked this anymore. "Just let me know when you're available and I'll work my magic."

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Kurt said, now a little more seriously. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Rachel even more by asking her to do this.

She shrugged again. "One of us should have a healthy love life, for a change."

Kurt really couldn't argue with that.

* * *

Later, Kurt arrived at Blaine's apartment again carrying a box of fresh-baked cookies and telling himself he was just being silly. Yes, Blaine was attractive. Yes, he had always appreciated how good-looking his professor/boss was. Yes, he had been in a bit of a dating dry spell for a while now. Yes, he probably needed to get laid.

That was all it was, really.

Blaine opened the door for him with his usual smile. He was dressed in tight black jeans that looked really good on him (and oh, okay, Mr. Anderson had a nicer ass than he had originally thought, okay), and a light green button up with tiny white dots. He smelled very good, even more than usual, and the ends of a bowtie were hanging around his collar.

Kurt forced himself not to look at him for longer than it was appropriate, and became very busy unbuttoning his coat and practically giving Blaine a very detailed weather report. He knew he was talking a little quicker than Blaine was probably used to, but at least by the time he was done, he felt slightly calmer.

"Oh, I brought some cookies for Max!" He exclaimed, showing the box to him. "Can I give him one or two after dinner? They're sugar cookies, and I made them with organic ingredients, so they are as healthy as cookies can be."

"That's really nice of you, Kurt," Blaine said with a warm smile, and if he noticed anything weird about Kurt, he didn't mention it. "Two after dinner should be fine. Don't give him more than that or you won't be able to get him to sleep at all."

"Duly noted," Kurt said, as he placed the box on the table for later.

"Thanks again for coming over tonight," Blaine muttered sincerely. "I hope I didn't ruin any fun plans?"

"You actually saved me from watching Funny Girl for the millionth time with my roommate," Kurt rolled his eyes. "I should be thanking you."

Blaine chuckled, before he glanced at the time. "I should finish getting ready. Max is in the living room."

"Got it," Kurt nodded and went into the living room.

Max was sitting on his play mat, completely mesmerized by _Toy Story_ playing on the television. His blue eyes were open wide as he stared at Woody and Buzz bickering on the screen. He looked up when Kurt sat down next to him and wordlessly pointed at the TV, as if saying "can you believe this shit? Woody is being a jealous asshole."

"I know, right?" Kurt said. "Like Woody can act all high and mighty wearing that horrible cowboy outfit."

He heard Blaine huff out a laughter from his bedroom.

Buzz was falling out of Andy's window and the toys were crying murder at Woody when Blaine reappeared, bowtie tied, hair perfectly in place, jacket on. He fidgeted with the jacket, trying to get it to sit just right on his shoulders, and Kurt watched him in silence, fingers itching to smooth the fabric for him, to run his hands down his arms…

Blaine frowned down at himself, as if unsure, before checking the time again. "Shoot. I'd better leave or I'll be late. Kurt? My phone will be on, and I don't expect to be back too late. I left money and take out menus for you on the kitchen table, and Max's food is in a container in the fridge, so you just need to heat it up. I can google the restaurant's phone number before I go just in case…"

Kurt smiled up at him. "Don't worry. We'll be fine. I'm sure you having your cellphone is more than enough. And anyway, Max and I are going to have a quiet evening. I don't expect any trouble. You just, uhm, have fun."

Blaine smiled back at him, a little hesitant. "Thank you. I'll see you guys later." He bent to place a quick kiss on Max's head, and then he was gone, out the door and into the arms of some guy…

_Woah, Kurt, calm down._

* * *

Blaine arrived at the restaurant five minutes late. He gave his name to the host at the entrance, who immediately guided him towards a table near the back, already occupied by another man. Blaine could only see the outline of his back and his dark hair. He was broad-shouldered, visibly taller than him.

"Daniel?" He said softly when he reached the table. Big, dark brown eyes looked up at him. "Hi, I'm Blaine. I'm really sorry I'm late. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

Daniel stood up (yes, he was certainly taller than him) and smiled at Blaine warmly. His lips were plump and lovely, the kind that were incredibly irresistible to kiss. "Blaine. Hi, how are you? Please, don't worry. I just got here myself."

They shook hands, which had always seemed slightly awkward to Blaine during dates. But now he didn't mind - Daniel's hands were strong, firm. His fingers wrapped around him with the perfect amount of pressure.

As they sat down, and the waiter promised to be back soon with the wine list, Blaine stole a few quick glances. Daniel was the definition of dark and handsome. He made a mental note to congratulate Sam on his exquisite taste on guys.

"So, how do you know Sam?" Blaine asked, deciding that was a safe topic to start.

"Oh, we were classmates back in college. We only started hanging out towards the end, though, and unfortunately we haven't stayed in touch as much as we should have after graduation. Life gets in the way," Daniel shrugged a bit, like he was sure Blaine understood, and Blaine actually did. Life certainly had a funny (and sometimes very far from funny) way of changing your plans. "He told me you two work together at NYU?"

"Yes, I'm a professor in the English Department there," Blaine said, and then thanked the waiter with a smile as he left the wine list and said he'd be back soon with the menus. "We actually started at the very same time, so we kind of bonded over being the new guys in campus. He's my best friend now."

They interrupted their conversation for a moment to choose a bottle of wine, and once the waiter was gone once again, Blaine settled more comfortably on his seat and leaned over the table, looking at Daniel with interest.

"So, what do you do?"

"I'm a journalist. I write for a sports magazine, amongst other things," Daniel answered.

Blaine asked a few questions about the magazine, and about which sports Daniel wrote about. He found his job honestly interesting, and it didn't bore him to hear him talk about it - Daniel was clearly passionate about what he did, and that was something Blaine always cherished and respected about other people.

They paused again when their food arrived (Blaine got the risotto with calamari, and Daniel ordered the ravioli), but immediately plunged back into it as soon as they were alone again. They praised the food (Blaine loved this restaurant, and it had been forever since he'd last been here, because it wasn't exactly baby-friendly), and their conversation centered on lighter topics as they ate.

Inevitably, the topic of family came around, just after they had pushed their plates away, full and satisfied, slightly warmed by the wine. Blaine let Daniel talk first, because he had actually dreaded this part of the evening quite a lot - he didn't want to ruin what was currently going so well, and talking about Cooper and Sara was never easy on him.

Daniel came from a Mexican family. His parents had moved to the United States before he was born, with only the money they had in their pockets, a couple of suitcases, and his older sister only a few months old. They had settled in California and Mr. Herrera had found work as a gardener. His wife, who had been a teacher back in their small village just outside Guadalajara, gave Spanish private lessons at home, which allowed her to care for their children as they grew up. Daniel was the second of five siblings, and the first of them to be born in the states. His parents had taught him from very early on to be hard-working, respectful and kind. After graduating high school with honors, he had earned a scholarship for college. Blaine could tell, just by the way he talked, that he had followed in his family's advice. He certainly seemed like a nice, hard-working man.

"When I graduated college, and started working on a newspaper, that has since closed, I met Henry. He was one of the other writers there, from the financial section." Daniel looked down into his glass of wine, and seemed lost in thought for a moment. "You know that phrase, "fell madly in love"? That's what it was for Henry and me. We met, and three months later we were living together. A year later, we were married. It was all… like a hurricane, you know? There was never time to think things through, we only just went ahead and did what we felt." He took a sip of wine, and Blaine guessed he was buying himself some time. "My family came over for Thanksgiving a couple of years ago. It was time to carve the turkey, our tiny apartment was too crowded and I couldn't find Henry to come give me a hand… and then I found him and one of my cousins having sex in our bathroom."

Blaine's eyes widened. "Oh my god. That's…"

"Really tasteful, don't you think?" Daniel arched a dark eyebrow, ironically. "Anyway, I don't want to bore you with the details, but it did end with me throwing all his clothes out the window and down onto the streets."

"Sounds fair," Blaine said with a little smile. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard."

"It was," Daniel admitted. "Later on, I found out that he had been sleeping with a guy from his gym, and one of our neighbors, too. Apparently he was some sort of incurable Casanova and I was the only one who couldn't see it."

"Wow," Blaine blinked at him incredulously. "What a douchebag. I bet you wish you could have done more than just throw his clothes out the window, huh?"

Daniel laughed. "To be honest? I'm relieved I caught them. Can you imagine? I might still be married to him if I hadn't. I could still be the poor idiot who gets cheated on with half of New York and doesn't even have a clue."

The waiter arrived once again, this time to offer them some dessert, and they decided to share a piece of Tiramisu. There was a slightly awkward silence after the waiter left them once more, and Blaine knew he was the one supposed to fill it, but he didn't even know how to start…

Daniel's hand brushed his carefully, and he looked up to find those mesmerizing dark eyes on him, full of compassion.

"To continue with my honesty… Sam told me about what happened to your brother, Blaine. I can see you are struggling to talk about it, so don't worry if it makes you uncomfortable or you don't want to tell me. It's fine. I understand."

Blaine felt very touched by the gesture. He smiled at him softly. "Thank you. I think it's… I'm having fun, you know. I can't remember the last time I had fun. I'd rather not ruin it."

"You wouldn't," Daniel assured him calmly, and then removed his hand, giving him space. "But I understand, like I said. I hope… maybe we'll have plenty of opportunities to talk about that?" He said bashfully, hopefully.

Blaine truly liked the sound of that.

* * *

Kurt left the bedroom door ajar and went back into the living room. He turned the TV off. It had taken a while to get Max to fall asleep - he seemed a little moody without his uncle there - and he didn't want to risk waking him up again.

He very pointedly did not glance at the time. He made himself a cup of tea and did not glance at the kitchen clock hanging on the wall. He sat on the couch, took a sip from his mug, and got comfortable to read for a while, while not checking the time on his phone. He read and he definitely did not stop every ten lines to look at the time.

He magically guessed midnight was drawing closer when he heard voices outside in the hallway. He could tell they were trying to be quiet, and for a moment Kurt was grateful because if anyone woke up Max he would _murder them_. And then he realized it had to be Blaine and his date, and before he could step all over his impulse like it was a fire he needed to put out, he got up from the couch and raced to the door to look out the peephole.

Blaine and The Guy were standing there. Blaine was fidgeting with his keys, and they were chuckling. Apparently The Guy had said something funny. And then his hand was on Blaine's cheek, and after a second's pause to see if Blaine would pull away, he leaned closer and kissed him.

He was kissing Blaine.

Kurt waited to see if Blaine pushed him away, but Blaine's hands settled on the other man's arms and kissed back, and Kurt had never imagined before what Blaine might look like while kissing someone, and now he wished he didn't have to know. He wished he didn't know his eyelashes painted black thick lines on his cheekbones, that his jaw went tense and then pliant in a matter of seconds as he moved into the kiss, that his fingers dug a little deeper into The Guy's jacket…

Kurt realized he had stopped breathing and moved away from the door, afraid his sudden exhale would alert them that they were being watched. He walked back to the couch and very pointedly did not count the minutes it took for Blaine to finally open the door, whisper one more goodbye to The Guy, and get into the living room.

"Hi, Kurt," he said, and his voice was really soft.

"Oh hey," Kurt replied, closing his book and shoving it into his bag.

"How was everything? Did Max give you any trouble?" Blaine asked, as he sat on the arm of the couch. His lips were very pink.

"Not at all, you know he's an angel," Kurt said, standing up and stretching his arms over his head, just to give him something to do. "He ate all his dinner, his two allowed cookies, and we watched a movie for a while. Then I put him to bed. It took a while to get him to fall asleep, but it was alright."

"You're a lifesaver," Blaine said warmly, smiling at him.

"Uhm, did you have a nice evening?" Kurt asked, because he knew it was the polite thing to do.

Blaine looked down for a moment, but he was still smiling. "Yeah, it was nice."

"I'm glad," Kurt muttered, and wished he could mean it. "Well, I'd better get going…"

"Hold on, let me call you a cab," Blaine said immediately, reaching for his phone. "You're not going all the way to Bushwick at this time of night by yourself."

"It's fine, really," Kurt said, a little uncomfortable. He just wanted to get the hell out of there.

"I insist. I'll feel terrible and I'll worry if I let you go on your own. It'll only be a few more minutes."

Since he couldn't exactly refuse, Kurt sat back down on the couch and played with the strap of his bag absently. Blaine went into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and Kurt took the opportunity to run a hand down his face, telling himself to just stop being such an idiot already. What had he expected?

It felt like the cab took forever. He didn't know what to say to Blaine, what to talk about, but the silence was almost deafening. He asked what he'd had for dinner, and then told him there was leftover Thai in the fridge if he wanted it.

Blaine walked him to the door when the cab arrived, and pushed money into his hand to pay for it, even though Kurt tried to protest. "Please, Kurt. Just take it. And text me when you get home, okay?"

Kurt couldn't keep fighting. He just wanted to get out of this apartment. "Sure. Thanks, Blaine. I'll see you on Monday."

"See you on Monday! Have a nice weekend, Kurt!"

Kurt sat on the backseat of a dark cab and watched the city passing by his window, the eternal lights of New York City that never seemed to go out, slowly morphing into Brooklyn, and then darkening gradually as they made it to Bushwick. He bit his lip and told himself he wouldn't cry for something as stupid as this. What the hell had he expected?

He was _not_ falling in love with Blaine Anderson.

Except that he definitely, stupidly, illogically, helplessly was.


	12. Chapter 12

On Sunday, Sam sat across from him at their favorite diner, bouncing Max distractedly on his lap, and watching Blaine with bright, eager eyes. "So?

Blaine took a sip from his Diet Coke and raised his eyebrows at him over the glass. He licked the sugary after-taste of the drink off his lips afterwards. "So, what?"

"Aren't you going to thank me and tell me you love me for setting you up with Daniel?" Sam asked, looking very pleased with himself.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I may have to reconsider seeing him again if you're going to become _too_ annoying." He leaned across the table to wipe a little smudge leftover from his meal from Max's mouth. "But he's kind of amazing."

"I would have introduced you two sooner if he hadn't been married to that asshole," Sam answered. Then he looked down at Max apologetically. "I mean, _bad man_. Very bad man."

"It's terrible, what his ex-husband did to him," Blaine shook his head. He couldn't imagine ever doing that to someone. He especially couldn't imagine doing it to someone he was supposed to love more than anyone else in the world. "I'm glad he could get rid of him. Can you imagine, how hard it must be, knowing you were living in such a nasty lie?"

"Some people are just heartless, I guess. They can't appreciate what they have. I felt bad for Daniel when I heard. He's truly one of the good guys. He didn't deserve it," Sam reached for his glass and took a sip. "Which makes it even better that you two hit it off. Are you going to see him again, then?"

Blaine looked down at his empty plate, only a few crumbles left there as evidence of his burger's previous existence, as he thought about it. He liked Daniel. He was a kind guy, respectful, attractive, interesting. It was hard finding guys like him nowadays. It seemed stupid not to see him again. He glanced at Max for a moment, wondering. He had no idea how to do the dating thing having a baby to worry about at the same time. But he guessed that, like with everything else so far, he would have to figure it out as he went.

"I think I will, yes," Blaine replied, and Sam gave him a bright grin of approval.

* * *

Suddenly, there were little dates during the week. Sometimes, Daniel would show up on campus, boxes of Chinese food, or sandwiches from the deli, and surprise Blaine in his office or between classes. There were stolen kisses when they didn't have enough time to even finish swallowing their food before they had to be back at work. Blaine met him for coffee twice in the afternoon, as well, before heading home. They sat close at their table, ankles knocking against each other, and flirted and talked until their coffee went cold, completely unnoticed on the table.

It was weird, having this. It was like being a teenager again, delighted with every interaction, a smile easy on his lips as soon as he thought of Daniel.

They hadn't gone out for dinner again yet, because Blaine didn't want to abuse Kurt's kindness by asking him to stay with Max on a Friday or Saturday night again. He knew the easy solution was to invite Daniel over to his place, maybe cook dinner and watch a movie, cuddle on the couch, but he wasn't ready to introduce him to Max yet. Max was so important to him, he didn't want to screw it up. He needed more time.

Daniel was very understanding, and Blaine liked that about him, as well. He didn't push, didn't pressure Blaine to find time to go out with him, didn't force himself into Blaine's private spaces. There were things Blaine wasn't ready to share yet, and he appreciated the patience.

Inevitably, though, when no other plans seemed to work because their schedules didn't allow it, Blaine approached Kurt once more, and asked if he was free to stay with Max on Saturday night. Sam had thought it would be a good idea to go out on a double date, and Daniel and him were meeting Sam and his new girlfriend, Mercedes, at the jazz club where she performed.

"Sure," Kurt said, and Blaine thought there was something weird about the way he said it. "No problem."

Blaine was going to ask him if he was okay, but Kurt's phone rang. It was his father, and Kurt never rejected a call from him, so Blaine let him to it in the living room, while he finished getting ready for work.

He probably should have remembered to ask him before he left, but he was on a hurry, as he usually was, and forgot. He called a quick goodbye into the apartment and closed the door behind himself, not seeing the way Kurt's face fell as soon as he was out of sight.

* * *

The next couple of weeks, Kurt went out on two dates. Both were with friends of Rachel, guys she promised were _perfect_ for him, that she had been waiting _forever_ to set him up with.

Sometimes he wondered what the hell Rachel saw when she looked at him.

The first guy, Sean, was clearly still too hung up on his ex-boyfriend, because he didn't talk about anything else during the entire time they were sitting at the restaurant. Kurt ordered chicken parmigiana, and that started a 10-minute monologue about how it was his ex's favorite meal in the whole world, and how Sean had learned to make it for their first anniversary. Kurt made a comment on the latest Julia Roberts film, and Sean said they had kissed for the first time watching Notting Hill cuddled on the couch. Kurt mentioned how much he loved fashion, and Sean said his ex had every number of Vogue that had ever been published, mint-condition, like a treasure.

Kurt left the restaurant feeling he knew a lot more about Sean's ex than about Sean himself. He glared at Rachel when she greeted him at the door of their apartment, excitingly asking if he'd had a nice time.

The second guy, Michael, was… well, there was no other way of putting it: he was Kurt's clone. It was like looking in a mirror and finding a slightly whinier version of himself. Everything Kurt liked, Michael liked. Everything Kurt wanted to do, Michael wanted to do as well. Except he expressed his enthusiasm by making really loud noises and gesturing so wildly he almost knocked their beverages twice.

Rachel was making herself a cup of tea in the kitchen when he arrived home. She turned to him with a huge smile that fell as soon as she saw the look on Kurt's face.

"I'm actually scared to ask you why you even thought this would be a good match," Kurt muttered, leaning against the closed door tiredly. "It was so weird, I think I'll have nightmares."

Rachel's face fell. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd hit it off. You have so much in common."

" _Too_ much," Kurt replied, as he shrugged his coat off and put it on the back of a chair.

"I'll choose the next one more carefully, then…"

"Oh no," Kurt said, taking a seat and looking at her, defeated. "I think I'm done with blind dates for now, Rach. Thanks, though. You're a good friend."

Rachel gave him a sad smile. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please," he murmured with a sigh.

Maybe he could have this, for the rest of his life. He and Rachel, two romance-impaired people who loved each other, keeping each other company until they were old and grey. Sure, there would be no sex, but they could still have kids one day, if they wanted to…

God, he was pathetic.

The problem wasn't that there weren't any guys he would like to date. It wasn't that New York was devoid of charming bachelors, of attractive gay men he could go out with, have fun, fall in love with. The problem was that the one his heart currently screamed for was more and more taken every day. He could see the gleam in Blaine's eye when his phone buzzed with a text message, when he came home from work and had seen Daniel during lunch. There was a change in him, one he very much deserved after everything he had gone through, but it pained Kurt to see it anyway.

And, pathetically enough, the thing he was most scared of was that maybe soon, if Blaine and Daniel took things seriously, they wouldn't need Kurt anymore. And it didn't scare him because he didn't want to lose his job.

He didn't want to lose Max.

It was almost heart-wrenching, the way he had fallen in love with that little boy. His smile could illuminate even the darkest of days, and his gentle innocence made Kurt believe that a better world, a happier world, was possible. He loved him. He would miss the hell out of that kid if he never got to see him again…

"I'm being stupid," Kurt said, causing Rachel to look up at him from where she was pouring a second cup of tea.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" She asked, taking a seat across from him and passing him his mug.

"This thing, with Blaine," he rolled his eyes. "I'm making things up in my head, worrying about things I don't know will even happen. I just… I don't want to ruin this. It's a good job. And I love Max. I just need to get over whatever my stupid feelings are doing."

"I don't think your feelings are stupid, Kurt," she said, seriously.

"They are when they do _this_ ," he fluttered his hands uselessly around himself, as if trying to explain what _this_ was. "It's probably all from lack of dating and sex. I just need to give it time, but it's driving me insane."

"Maybe you're truly in love with him," Rachel said calmly. "There's nothing wrong with…"

"Everything's wrong with that!" He exclaimed, almost angrily. He covered his eyes with his hand. "I'm not in love with him. I'm not in love with him, Rachel. This is just me being stupid and needing a goddamn boyfriend. I just need to get laid. I'll get over it. I'm not in love with him."

They both knew he just kept saying it as if constantly feeding the lie to himself would make it true, but neither said anything.

* * *

It was Tuesday, and Blaine was locking up his office after his last appointment with a student, when his phone began ringing in his coat pocket. He fished it out, and then stared at the name on his screen for so long, the call almost went to voicemail. He accepted it just in time, feeling his mouth dry, dread already pooling in his stomach.

"Hello?"

"Blaine," his mother said in greeting. "Is this a bad time?" She asked, only to do justice to her manners, but Blaine knew she never liked being dismissed, was it or not a bad time.

"No, no, I'm just leaving work. How are you? How's Dad?" The hall was almost empty, so he made his way to a bench and sat down.

"We're both fine, thank you. I'm calling because we're going to New York this weekend. We have a little dinner party on Saturday, with the Collins, for their son's engagement," she said, and maybe Blaine imagined how pointedly she said those words, but it felt like she was trying to make him feel bad about it. "We want to see Max on Sunday."

She didn't ask. She simply made a statement and expected Blaine to agree, whether it was convenient for him or not.

He realized he was sweating. He had last seen them at Cooper and Sara's funeral, when they had argued about Max's custody. They rarely spoke on the phone. This year, he hadn't even received a Christmas card, only an email from his mother that said "Happy Holidays" without even a signature or good wishes.

But they were Max's grandparents. They had a right to see him.

"Uhm, sure," he said, feeling a little dizzy. "What did you…?"

"We'll stop by your place," she said, not waiting for an invitation. "Please send me the address, I'm not sure if I have it."

Blaine had lived in the same apartment for a few years now.

"Of course," he said. His mouth had gone from dry to pasty. "I…"

"Perfect. Then we will see you on Sunday," she interrupted. "Good afternoon."

And just like that, she hung up.

Blaine stayed there, gaping at his phone like a fish, for a few minutes. He wasn't certain he could trust his legs yet. His mother's phone calls were like being hit by a freight train.

He wasn't entirely sure how he even made it home. One second he was still sitting in that bench, the next he was standing in a New York corner waiting for the light to change, and then he was trying to fit his keys in the front door's lock.

Kurt was dancing with Max in the living room, the little boy laughing so hard he drowned out the music playing in the background. There was a huge smile on Kurt's face as he swayed the kid around, and they both turned towards him when they heard him come in.

"Look who's home, Max! Uncle Blaine should join our dance party, don't you think?" Kurt exclaimed, but with a good look at Blaine's face, he stopped. He put Max down gently and turned the music off. "What's wrong?" He asked.

Blaine wondered how he could know with just one look. He looked aside, to the mirror in the little reception area, and saw his face was white as a sheet.

Glancing at Max to make sure he stay put, Kurt walked towards Blaine, grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, making him sit carefully. He kneeled on the floor in front of him. "Blaine? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Blaine finally snapped out of it. Max began to whimper, protesting because the dance party was so suddenly over. Kurt reached behind himself and rubbed Max's back comfortingly, but his eyes were set on Blaine, attentive and worried.

"No, no, I'm fine," Blaine said, touching the back of Kurt's hand fleetingly to reassure him. He laid against the back of the couch, his body going loose after the tension produced by the phone call. "It's just… my mother called."

Kurt frowned. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, yes. Both she and my father are fine," Blaine said dismissively.

Now Kurt arched an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm not sure I'm following."

"They're coming to visit on Sunday," Blaine said, and by the look on Kurt's face, he understood this still didn't explain why he seemed so upset. "We're not exactly on speaking terms. We kind of… uhm, I think _argued_ is a very light word to what happened when I last saw them. I'm pretty much sure I screamed at them in the middle of Cooper and Sara's funeral."

"Oh," Kurt said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Blaine shrugged, and _god_ , he hadn't realized how tired he was. "It's complicated. We had an incredibly complicated relationship for most of my teenage years, and sometimes I think Coop was the only glue keeping us together."

"Maybe they want to make amends?" Kurt suggested, and when Blaine glanced at him, he shrugged. "Losing a child sometimes sets your priorities straight, Blaine. Maybe they don't want to miss out on being part of your life now. Maybe they realized they were wrong."

Blaine closed his eyes and tried to imagine that. He tried to imagine that his parents would apologize for the many years of indifference, for the lack of love and support, for being so intolerant and distant. He imagined his mother would hug him and his father would pat him on the back, and everything would be okay.

He shook his head. Andrea Anderson hadn't been the warmest of mothers on the phone. She hadn't even asked how he was doing. She hadn't even asked about how _Max_ was doing. "It doesn't really sound like them."

Kurt smiled encouragingly at him. "Give them the benefit of the doubt? If you can't avoid this visit, then it makes no sense to just stress until it happens. Do you know what stress does to you?" He asked, and arched an eyebrow again. "It makes you lose your hair, Blaine. And I'm sorry, it doesn't matter how attractive you are, you cannot pull off a bald spot."

The laughter burst out of Blaine so suddenly he didn't even have time to register that Kurt had said he was attractive, and then that Kurt's face had gone red as soon as _he_ realized.

"It'll be alright," Kurt said softly. "Can I help? Do you want me to buy food for them? Do you want me to help in any way? Maybe moral support?"

"Moral support would be sort of awesome," Blaine said, feeling a little embarrassed at how relieved he was that he wouldn't need to face this alone.

"I'll stop by on Sunday, pretend I forgot my notes for my Monday class or something," Kurt said. "If things are going well, then I'll just go. If not… well, we'll see what happens."

"You are…" Blaine's eyes fixed on Kurt, at a loss for words. How could he even begin to describe Kurt? "You're an angel, Kurt. Sometimes I think Cooper sent you here to make my life easier."

Kurt blushed again. "I… I don't… really know what to say to that," he stammered.

"You don't have to say anything, Kurt." He smiled at him. "Thank you."

Max crawled towards them. Blaine grabbed him to sit him on his lap, and wrapped his arms around him, breathing in the scent of his baby shampoo. That was the biggest comfort he could find.

Blaine just hoped his parents weren't planning on taking him away.


	13. Chapter 13

If God could sing, She would have the voice of Mercedes Jones.

Blaine sat in a small table in a dark corner of the jazz club, Daniel on his left, and Sam on his right. He couldn't take his eyes off this woman. She was a _beast_ on stage. He could see exactly why Sam was falling head over heels for her. Her raw talent, her breathtaking personality, and her dazzling looks made her irresistible. If Blaine hadn't been a perfect gold star gay, he would have been crazy for her.

When she finished her performance of _Ain't No Way_ , Blaine clapped so hard his hands hurt. There were a few tears pooling in his eyes. She was powerful.

Still, no one clapped or cheered as loudly as Sam, who leaned a little into Blaine's side and whispered in his ear: "I'm going to marry that woman."

Blaine hoped he would.

Mercedes, in an elegant sequined blue gown, grinned broadly. "Thank you. Thank you so much for coming. This next song is dedicated to Sam. It's also by Aretha, because the Queen always says it best."

The first chords of _Natural Woman_ began playing, and Sam's smile could have shined a spotlight on Mercedes. Blaine could see how in love they were already, how amazing they were for each other. It sent a warm sensation down his spine. He wished he could…

Daniel touched his hand, interrupting his line of thought, and Blaine had almost forgotten he was there. "Hey. You've been quiet tonight. Is everything okay?"

Blaine couldn't stop thinking about his parents visiting tomorrow. The whole week had been difficult. He had been distracted and worried, and he wasn't ready for whatever was about to happen. What if they wanted to fight him for custody? Could they do that? Should Blaine call a lawyer?

But he didn't want to talk to Daniel about it. He hadn't even talked much to him about Cooper, just a few isolated comments here and there. But he wasn't ready to empty his soul like that, to put down his burden and share it with him.

"I'm just mesmerized by Mercedes," Blaine replied, giving him a reassuring smile. "Isn't she wonderful?"

"She is," Daniel agreed. "Jazz has never been my thing, but now I don't think I can listen to anything else."

Blaine turned his eyes back to the stage. He wasn't in the mood for conversation. He was in the mood for music. Music that broke his heart into a million pieces and mended it right back, that nursed it back to health and filled it with every sensation and feeling the human heart was able to experience.

Daniel frowned. Blaine was usually open, easy for conversation, charming and kind. Tonight, he was closed off, distant. "Are you sure everything's fine? Maybe we can go out for a moment, get some fresh air, talk."

No, Blaine wanted to stay right here. Possibly all through Sunday, until Monday morning. That way, he wouldn't have to face his father and mother. Still, he managed another smile. "I promise. It's fine. It was just a long week."

Daniel seemed inclined to ask more questions, but when it was obvious Blaine's attention was back on the music, he kept his mouth shut.

At the end of her set, Mercedes left the stage and went straight for their table, stopped on her way by people who needed to tell her just how fantastic she had been. She gracefully accepted every compliment, and then moved right into Sam's waiting arms, and let him press a sweet kiss on her flushed cheek.

"Blaine, Daniel," Sam said, turning to them as he slipped an arm around her waist. "This superstar is Mercedes Jones."

"Hi guys!" She said happily. "It's so nice to meet you!"

"It's so nice to meet _you_ ," Blaine said, shaking her hand and dropping a quick kiss on the back of it. "You are so… words are _not_ enough to describe your talent."

"And he's an English professor, so that should tell you exactly how amazing you are," Sam said, as Mercedes laughed, flattered.

"Thank you, guys. I'm glad you enjoyed the set! And I'm glad you could join us," she took a seat and Sam immediately went to the bar to get her something to drink. "Sam talks about you all the time, Blaine. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"He's a great friend, I've been so lucky," Blaine said honestly.

Daniel wanted to know how Sam and Mercedes had met, so she launched into the story. They had a great night, laughing and chatting, and exchanging anecdotes. Blaine was still mostly interested in knowing everything there was to know about Mercedes Jones.

"When you inevitably become the greatest artist of our generation, I'll get to tell my students that I knew you," he said, and she laughed, but seemed very charmed by him.

They were starving after a while, so they walked down the street towards a burger place. It was very cold outside. Sam threw an arm around Mercedes' shoulders and rubbed them gently to keep her warm. Daniel reached for Blaine's hand and stuck it in his coat's pocket with his.

"You're still really quiet," Daniel commented.

"I know. I'm sorry," Blaine muttered. "I'm a little distracted."

"I hope you know that if there's anything I can do to help…" Daniel said earnestly.

Blaine leaned his head on Daniel's shoulder for a moment. "I know. Thank you."

But he didn't say more.

* * *

Kurt was asleep on the couch when Blaine made it home. He closed the door softly behind himself, not wanting to startle him, but Kurt still sat up, rubbing his eyes in confusion.

"What time is it?" He asked, his voice a little rough from sleep.

"Almost one," Blaine replied. He smiled at Kurt's disheveled appearance. He looked comfortable and soft, his body long and loose on the couch. "I'm sorry, it's a little later than I said. We went for a burger after the concert and then I walked Daniel home, and I didn't realize it was so late."

Kurt blinked slowly at him. "Oh, it's fine. Don't worry."

"Was everything okay tonight?" Blaine sat next to him.

"Yeah. We had another little dance party," Kurt said with a smile. "He ate all his dinner and went to bed right on time. He was a perfect little boy."

"I'm glad," Blaine leaned his head on the back of the couch and sighed.

"You okay?" Kurt asked, turning on the couch to face him. Blaine just shrugged. "Are you still worried about tomorrow?"

"A little bit," Blaine admitted. "I just don't know what they could come up with."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Kurt said, and Blaine thought he had no idea what a can of worms that question was.

"For starters, they could come to tell me they are fighting me for Max's custody," Blaine said. There was a very heavy weight on his chest. It was hard to breathe.

Kurt's eyes went wide, and he was suddenly very awake. "Do you really think that's a possibility?"

"They didn't want me to be raising Max in the first place," Blaine explained as calmly as he could. "That's why we fought at the funeral. They wanted to take Max home with them."

"Wow, no wonder you looked so pale when your mother called," Kurt muttered.

Blaine practically doubled over in half, his elbows on his knees and his head between his arms, as if shielding it from whatever was about to rain on him. "I can't do this, Kurt. I can't go through this right now."

Kurt hesitated and then rubbed Blaine's back comfortingly. "Hey. We already talked about this. There's no point in stressing about something that might not happen. I know it's a difficult situation, but maybe it won't be as bad as you think. Maybe they just need to see how amazing you are with him. Trust me, it'll take them less than ten seconds to realize Max's exactly where he's supposed to be."

Blaine tried really, really hard to stop it, but still the tears began to trail down his face and a little sob made his spine shake under Kurt's hand. "I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified."

"Blaine…" Kurt sounded like his heart was broken. He shuffled closer on the couch, and this time wrapped his arm around Blaine's back, his cheek falling to rest on the back of Blaine's shoulder. "It'll be alright. Whatever it is, no matter how hard, you won't have to do it alone. I will be here. I will help you. And if they dare to try to take that child from you, I swear I won't let them."

Blaine knew there was truly nothing Kurt could do if his parents put their lawyer to it. That man had been managing Hugh Anderson's legal affairs for over twenty years, and had never missed a case. But still, the vehemence on Kurt's voice gave him hope.

He grabbed Kurt's free hand between his and squeezed it. "You sure you want to stop by tomorrow?"

"If you want me here, I'll be here," Kurt reassured him without a second's doubt.

"They are… not very pleasant to be around," Blaine explained carefully, as if needing to make Kurt understand just what exactly he was getting himself into. "My father probably won't say much, but when he does, it won't be nice. And my mother… god, she's like a dragon. You can't stop her."

He felt Kurt smile a little against his shoulder. "I can be a dragon too, Blaine," he said softly, his voice vibrating through Blaine's ribs and right into his heart. "Maybe she's the one who should be scared. You haven't seen me breathe fire yet."

Despite everything, Blaine laughed and pressed Kurt's hand against his beating heart.

* * *

On Sunday, Blaine slept past his alarm. He woke up, disoriented, when he heard Max practically wailing for his attention from his bedroom. He tripped getting out of bed and almost hit his head on the wall, before he hurried into his nephew's room to calm him. It was nearly eleven in the morning. His parents had said they were going to be there at noon.

He was so fucked.

Kurt had stayed with him until almost three. They hadn't talked much after that, just kept him company until Blaine felt like he could breathe again, until he felt like the weight on his chest was a little lighter, until he felt like he could keep himself in control. Only then had Kurt gone home, accepting money for a taxi at Blaine's insistence again, and promptly messaged him as soon as he arrived at his apartment so Blaine could know he had made it there safely.

Wonderful, wonderful _Kurt_.

He hurried as he made breakfast for Max and coffee for himself, grateful that he had showered before getting into bed last night, as he waited for Kurt's text message. He only needed to put his hair under control and Max into clean clothes, and he would be fine. The apartment didn't look like it had been hit like a nuclear bomb, which was a huge improvement, though he had planned to vacuum and go grocery shopping so he would have decent food to offer his parents for lunch. Now, he would have to settle for take-out, and pray there weren't any dust bunnies under the couch. Blaine knew his mother. She would find them.

The doorbell rang two minutes before twelve o'clock. Blaine, who was trying his best to fix his hair in the bathroom mirror, cursed his parents' punctuality, and walked towards the door, first stopping at the living room to lower the volume on the TV, where Max was entertained with his favorite cartoons.

His hands were shaking as he opened the door. _Whatever it is, no matter how hard, you won't have to do it alone._

Kurt's voice echoed in him like a prayer he could believe in.

Andrea and Hugh Anderson looked exactly the same, as if the months hadn't even passed. She was wearing a tube skirt and a blazer, both red, on top of a black blouse, her long black coat unzipped, and her feet sheathed in stilettos that couldn't be practical in the cold Manhattan streets. His father was wearing a blue suit, his coat also unbuttoned, his shoes polished.

They didn't look like they were visiting their son. They looked like they were on a business appointment.

"Mom, Dad," he said politely, moving aside to let them in. "Come in."

Her mother removed her coat entirely as she looked around, not disguising the disapproving look on her face. "It's rather small, don't you think?"

"It's enough for me and Max. And a three-bedroom apartment in Manhattan is practically a mansion," he shrugged. He told himself he wouldn't let them get to him. "I trust you had a good flight?"

Hugh grunted what sounded like an affirmative reply. "How's work?"

Blaine swayed for a moment on his heels, already uncomfortable beyond words. "Please, let's go into the living room," he said, and guided them there. "And work's fine. It gets crazier the closer it gets to the end of the semester, but nothing I can't manage."

Max looked up from his cartoons at the sound of people coming into the room. He frowned for a moment, and looked at Blaine like saying, "Who the hell are these two and why are they wearing those clothes on a Sunday, for God's sake?"

Blaine thought maybe Max was spending too much time with Kurt.

"Hey, Max," Blaine said softly, approaching the kid to pick him up. "Let's go say hello to your grandparents."

Hugh and Andrea studied Max almost clinically as Blaine walked towards them.

"He looks bigger," she commented. "Is he eating well?"

"Oh yeah, he's not a very picky eater, thank god," Blaine said with a little laugh. "He devours anything you give him."

"Mm. You might want to be careful. He shouldn't get too chubby," Andrea commented. What kind of grandmother didn't even reach for the baby after not seeing him for months? "Do you take him to daycare?"

"No, we have a fantastic nanny who's actually a lifesaver…" Blaine began saying, ready to sing Kurt's praise, but was immediately interrupted by his father.

"A nanny? That is an insane idea," Hugh said, frowning. "Did you check for criminal background records before you accepted some stranger into your house? Does she come highly recommended by some agency or acquaintance?"

 _She_. Blaine wondered what they would think when he told them Max's nanny was actually a man. But he understood the undertone. Taking care of babies was a demeaning job. It wasn't a position meant to be occupied by men.

"I have the number of a fantastic daycare in the Upper East Side," Andrea said immediately. "I got the recommendation from the Collins. Their eldest daughter took all her kids there. You can call them after we leave."

"Thanks, but I don't think…"

"If you think it's a little out of your financial reach, we can discuss it," Hugh said.

Blaine took a deep breath. "Coop and Sara left money for Max's needs. We don't need anything."

Max had been glancing at his grandparents silently during this whole exchange, and finally seemed to decide he didn't like them very much, because he threw his head back and began crying loudly. Hugh's eyebrows shot up to his hairline in shock, and Andrea's lips pursed in distaste.

"Hey, buddy. It's fine. It's fine, it's fine…" Blaine tried to soothe him, bouncing him a little. He looked at his parents awkwardly. "Sorry, he doesn't… he gets really uncomfortable with people he doesn't know very well."

"That isn't normal behavior," Andrea commented, leaning closer as if to take a good look at Max's anguished face. "Have you tried taking him to a child psychologist, Blaine?"

"Mom, he's okay. He doesn't need a psychologist just because he doesn't like strangers," Blaine said, frustrated, as he did his best to calm his nephew.

"Strangers? We're his grandparents," she said, visibly offended.

"Well, he hasn't seen either of you since the funeral. What did you expect? He wasn't going to run straight into your arms, Mom!" He exclaimed, a little more angrily that he would have liked. He sat on the couch and grabbed Max's favorite bear, who hugged it to his chest for comfort. "There you go, kiddo. It's alright."

"We are here now," Hugh said, and for some reason, Blaine didn't like the tone of his voice.

He held Max a little tighter. He was still whimpering unhappily.

Andrea sat on the armchair next to the couch, very carefully, as if scared it would send a cloud of dust flying in the air. "If you're struggling, you can tell us. We wouldn't mind… helping ease the load."

Blaine had trouble breathing again. He focused his gaze on the TV where a rescue squad made up of dogs dressed like cops and firefighters were helping a girl with a scraped knee. He could feel the words burning on his tongue, the anger slowly rising, the panic setting. "Max is not a _load_."

"Oh don't be so sensitive," Andrea rolled her eyes. "You know what we mean. This can't be easy for you, raising a child that isn't yours, all by yourself. God knows what Sara and Cooper were thinking when they named you his guardian…"

And there it was again, that heavy weight on his chest. "They were thinking that I love this kid more than anything in the world."

"Love's not enough, Blaine," Hugh retorted, standing behind his wife and putting a hand on her shoulder, as if presenting a united front would help them win the battle. "There are other things to parenting."

"Like you two are experts," he spit before he could stop himself. "Like you didn't screw up everything with your own two children. How dare you come here and tell me I'm not the right person to raise Max when you left me on my own…"

"Dear god, Blaine." Hugh murmured, displeased. "Are you still upset about that?"

"I was beaten up at a high school dance and all you two cared about was that your friends and the neighbors would find out I was _gay_!" He exclaimed. There was a hole in his stomach. A black hole, trying to consume him.

"Don't act like that was our fault," Andrea said airily.

"Oh, no, I'm pretty sure it was my fault. After all, what was I thinking, that because I was fourteen years old, bruised, bedridden and scared I could count on my parents? How could I have come up with such an insane idea?" He screamed, and Max began crying again.

He was breathing heavily, looking at his parents with his eyes filled with tears, but the worst part was that they still looked at him like they weren't seeing him at all. They looked at him like he was a stranger, not even a person, just something they couldn't use for their own benefit. How could he have thought today would go any different?

He heard the scrape of the key on the lock, and a couple of seconds later, Kurt's voice floated into the apartment. "Blaine? Are you guys home? I forgot my…"

He came into the living room and clapped his mouth shut. His blue eyes took in the scene and immediately searched for Blaine, his lips twisting, upset, when he realized things weren't going well. Max, however, as soon as he heard his voice (his amazing, beautiful voice), stopped crying, and instead tried to crawl out of Blaine's arms and towards him.

Kurt smiled at the boy and took a few steps to get closer. Blaine passed the kid over and hastily dried his tears, and Max wrapped his little arms around Kurt's neck as if saying "Dude, get me the hell out of here. Talk about _awkward_."

"Hi! I'm really sorry to interrupt. I just needed to pick something up," he said, his voice purposefully light. "You two must be Blaine's parents. I'm Kurt…" He extended his hand, but neither of them made a move to shake it. "Okay. I see."

"Kurt's my…" Blaine began to explain, trying to somehow get the meeting back on track, but once again, his parents wouldn't let him speak.

"Oh, I think we all know what Kurt is," Andrea said with a fake smile.

Kurt arched an eyebrow. _Oh oh_ , Blaine thought.

"You know, I always wondered where Blaine got his charming personality, and his kindness," Kurt said, giving her his best fake smile in return. "I guess it came all from his big brother."

Andrea glared.

Max pressed his forehead against Kurt's cheek, as if pleading to take him anywhere but here. Kurt smiled down at him. "What is up with you, little man?"

"Blaine, I do believe we should keep discussing things privately," Hugh muttered pointedly.

"I don't think there's much to discuss, to be honest, Dad," Blaine said tiredly, but feeling a little stronger now that Kurt was standing right beside him. "I don't think we'll ever agree."

"We definitely need to discuss Max's future…" Andrea insisted.

"There is nothing to discuss," Blaine repeated, growing more and more frustrated. Why was it so hard for them to understand? "I'm raising Max the way Cooper and Sara wanted me to, and that's it. You don't get to decide what's best for him when you couldn't be proper parents to us first."

"Stop with the childish complaints. Stop trying to get everyone's attention with your silly behavior, Blaine," Andrea huffed indignantly. "It is _so_ like you. You only think about yourself. How can you expect to do what's needed to take care of Max…?"

Kurt took two steps towards her and extended the kid as if to offer him to them. "Here. Grab your grandchild and if he doesn't cry as soon as you touch him, I'm sure Blaine will be happy to discuss whatever options you think are more adequate."

Andrea stared at him like he was crazy. "Blaine, are you going to allow your little boyfriend here to tell us…?"

Blaine blinked in surprise at that, but Kurt didn't even react. He just held Max out for them.

"Come on. You have nothing to lose. Just grab him. And while you're at it, you can change his diaper, because I'm pretty sure he just went number two. If you want him so badly, you might as well start practicing," he said scathingly.

Andrea looked truly horrified. She glanced up at her husband, as if looking for back-up, but he raised his hands as if saying she was all alone in this.

Kurt readjusted Max in his arms, who had started whimpering unhappily when he held him close to his grandparents. "I see how it is." He kissed the kid's head in silent apology, pressed a hand on Blaine's shoulder gently, and said: "I'm going to change his diaper. Let me know if you need anything."

Blaine caught Kurt's hand before he could remove it. He held it for a moment and looked into his eyes, profoundly grateful for this man. "Thanks, Kurt."

Kurt winked at him and left the room.

"That is one unpleasant creature you keep around, Blaine," Hugh said, not bothering to lower his voice. "This is exactly why we don't want you keeping Max…"

"Yes, we wouldn't want him growing up surrounded by kind, intelligent people who love him more than anything, right?" Blaine said, and stood up slowly, as if his legs were suddenly leaden. "I think you two should go."

"Blaine…" Andrea sighed impatiently.

"We all know this is not something we will ever agree on," Blaine said tiredly. "I won't let you take Max away from me. I can't stop you from calling your lawyer and trying, but I am not going down without a fight. And we also know that you two don't want to have to raise a child. You're too busy with your galas and your dinner parties. You won't stay home on a Friday night to take care of him, when you could be somewhere else. You didn't do it with Cooper and me. You won't do it for Max. Living with me, he's with family. Living with you, he's condemned to be raised by random nannies."

His parents were suddenly silent because they all knew that was true.

Still, Hugh tried one last time. "Your lifestyle…"

"My _lifestyle_ is healthier than yours would ever be," Blaine replied. He looked at them sadly and thought about the family he would never get to have. "I don't care what you think about it. I just know Max will be happier with me, and that's all I care about."

After a pause, Hugh cleared his throat and put a hand on his wife's back. "We should go. We have those tickets for the theatre, we don't want to be late."

"Of course," she said, like missing the theatre would be the worst thing ever.

Blaine sighed, exhausted. "I'll go get Max so you can say goodbye…"

"There's no need," she interrupted, and Blaine stared at her in sad disbelief. "We'll see ourselves out."

They left without another word, and Blaine let himself fall back on the couch. They hadn't even said goodbye to Max. They didn't care. It had never been about Max's wellbeing, about taking his best interest into account. It had always been about Blaine. It had always been about how disappointed and unhappy they were with him.

He hid his face into his hands. If they called that lawyer…

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered softly, and Blaine looked up at him, standing hesitantly on the entrance, Max safely in his arms.

Blaine once again tried to dry his tears hastily. "Do you need help with Max? I can change his diaper if you…"

"I was lying about the diaper," Kurt shrugged guiltily. "I just wanted to see the look on her face when I said he pooped."

Blaine chuckled and more tears escaped down his cheeks. "God, you were… the dragon really did come out to play."

Kurt sat next to him and bumped their shoulders together. "I hope I didn't overstep."

"Not at all," Blaine assured him, leaning against his side a little, feeling the warmth of Kurt's body. "You were amazing."

"So…" Kurt murmured, biting his lip. "Those are your parents."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Impressive, huh?"

"Not the word I would use, but sure," Kurt said, as he let Max down on the floor when he began to wiggle on his lap. "Do you think they'll file for custody?"

Blaine thought about it. If they wanted to screw him up, sure. But he had seen the look on their eyes when he talked about them sacrificing their own lifestyle for Max's needs. They would never do that. "I don't know. I hope not. But whatever happens…"

"We'll face it," Kurt said, threading his arm through Blaine's and squeezing, smiling encouragingly. "Together."

Blaine laced their fingers together without thinking. "This is way over your paycheck. You deserve a raise."

Kurt laughed. "This has nothing to do with the job, Blaine."

"Then what is it about?" Blaine asked, glancing up at Kurt's face.

He could see Kurt swallow. His blue eyes bore into his. "Love," he whispered, almost reverently. Then he blinked and looked at Max, who was now sitting on the floor hugging his leg. "Your love for Max. Your love for Cooper. _My_ love for Max…"

It sounded like he was going to say something else, but then he shook his head and stayed silent.

Blaine smiled down at his nephew. "We should let you go. It's Sunday and you're wasting it with us and our drama."

"Please, if there's drama, I'm all for it," Kurt said sassily, and unlinked their arms. He stood up. "How about some comfort food? I make some mean Mac-and-Cheese from scratch that will make you forget all about drama."

Blaine peeled Max from Kurt's leg and hugged him close. He needed to feel his little heartbeat against his hand. "That sounds heavenly."

Kurt put the remote on Blaine's hand. "You two catch up on the shenanigans of the Paw Patrol. I'll take care of lunch."

Blaine followed him with his eyes as he left the living room, and then glanced at his book case, to the photograph of Cooper and him a few years ago. He looked at his brother sadly for a moment, wondered if his parents thought about their dead son even half as much as Blaine thought about his brother, and then smiled briefly at Cooper's perpetual grin.

"You did a good job sending him," he murmured quietly, so Kurt wouldn't hear. "A perfect angel. He takes good care of us, Coop."

He could hear Kurt singing from the kitchen as he cooked. Maybe things would be okay, in the end.


	14. Chapter 14

After his morning class on Monday, Blaine had put enough distance between the meeting with his parents and now to feel a little better. He didn't feel like he was choking on the fear now. He could breathe. He could think. Hugh and Andrea Anderson probably wouldn't bother them again for a while, until they got bored with their meaningless lives and wanted to try to screw someone else's again.

Apparently Blaine was still angry, even if he was calmer.

He was grading papers in his office just a little past noon when there was a knock on the door. He looked up just as Daniel peeked in, checking if Blaine was busy.

"Hey you!" Blaine exclaimed, smiling. He stood up and walked around the desk to greet him. "What are you doing here? Did we agree on lunch? I'm sorry, I think I totally forgot…"

"Oh, no, no. This is completely impromptu," Daniel said, coming into the office and dropping a quick kiss on Blaine's lips. He had two paper bags and showed them to Blaine. "But I did bring lunch, so I hope you're in the mood for Mexican food?"

Blaine's stomach groaned. "Tell me you have some chicken burritos in there."

Daniel handed him one of the bags and they settled comfortable at Blaine's desk to eat. Blaine moved all his papers away so he wouldn't accidentally get grease all over them, and pushed his chair a little closer to Daniel's, so they could bump their knees together.

"I have to admit I have two reasons to drop by," Daniel said, as Blaine took a bite of burrito. He looked up at him inquisitively as he chew. "First, I wanted to see you, so it was slightly selfish. Your face is the only thing that can make Monday bearable."

Blaine could feel himself blushing, but didn't dare smile in case he would spit his chicken out. It wouldn't be very sexy.

"Second, I'm… a little worried, Blaine," Daniel muttered, leaning a bit to glance into his eyes. "You were really distant on Saturday, even after we left Sam and Mercedes. When you walked me home… it looked like you wanted to be anywhere but with me."

Blaine felt a pang of guilt travelling through him. He knew he needed to talk about things with Daniel, to fill him in on his family situation, but it wasn't something that he liked to talk about with anyone. Except Kurt, apparently. Kurt, the fire-breathing dragon who made killer Mac-and-Cheese from scratch.

He decided he needed to be fairer. He gave Daniel a short version of the facts - his parents weren't exactly nice people and they didn't agree that Blaine should be the one taking care of Max - and about their visit on Sunday, and how tense he had been as he waited to find out the real motivation for their coming over.

Daniel made a sad face as he listened to him, and then reached for Blaine's hand to give it a firm squeeze. "Blaine… I'm sorry about all of this. And I'm sorry if I made you think you couldn't tell me… I wish I could have been with you, helped you somehow."

"Oh, trust me, you wouldn't have wanted to be there," Blaine laughed humorlessly. "It was painfully uncomfortable. I probably would have just burst into tears of frustration. Kurt handled things so much better than I did…"

Daniel tilted his head in confusion. "Kurt?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, reaching for his drink, not noticing the look on Daniel's face. "He was really great. You should have seen him standing up to my mom. I don't think anyone's stood up to her before. I wish I could have taken a picture."

Daniel was silent for a moment. Blaine finished his burrito and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks for lunch. You're amazing."

Daniel smiled at him, but it wasn't as bright as it usually was.

Blaine was in such a good mood by the time Daniel was getting ready to leave, that he stopped him with a hand on his arm and brought him in for a breathless kiss. What if he stopped worrying? What if he stopped being afraid?

"Do you have any plans tonight?"

Daniel grinned into the kiss, looking entirely interested.

* * *

Blaine hadn't thought it would be possible to find anything as nerve-wrecking as his parents' visit, but apparently inviting Daniel over for dinner was pretty close. It didn't have to do with whether Daniel would like his cooking, or his apartment, or whether they would end up in bed together at the end of the night.

Blaine was worried about how Max would react to him.

What if Max cried non-stop as soon as he caught sight of him? What if he flinched away from him the way he had done with his grandparents the previous day? Ever since the accident, when he had obviously gone from a stranger's arms to the other until his uncle arrived at the hospital for him, he had been distrustful and shy, always marking very clear limits to his comfort. Blaine admired that his nephew could be so honest about his boundaries from such a young age, but there were people he didn't want to see Max reject.

As he waited for Daniel to get there, the water already boiling for the pasta and the garlic bread in the oven, he sat on the couch with Max, pulled him onto his lap and held him close.

"I don't ever want you to feel like you have to be around people you're not comfortable with," Blaine muttered into his soft black hair. "I don't want people to hug you or touch you or kiss you without your consent. You are the most important thing in the entire world, Max, and if you need to scream your little lungs out just to get strangers away, go ahead and do that. But maybe… if you can give Daniel a chance? That would make me happy, kiddo."

Max looked at him with wide, innocent blue eyes.

"I think I like him," Blaine whispered, as if it was a secret. "He's a good man. You have no idea how hard it is to come across one of those." He chuckled. "You and I have had a difficult few months. And it's not gonna get easier right away, but… when good things happen to us, shouldn't we embrace them? Maybe Daniel is one of those good things."

Max still had no idea what Blaine was talking about, but he cuddled against his uncle's chest, and Blaine decided to take it as a positive sign.

When he had to go check on the sauce, he put Max down on his play mat with his toys. After making sure everything was fine in the kitchen, he busied himself setting the table. Just as he was done, the doorbell rang.

Daniel was wearing a broad smile when he opened the door. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a little blue bag in the other and he stepped right into Blaine's space to drop a kiss on his lips. "Hi," he said.

"Hi yourself," Blaine smiled back. "Come on in."

"Your apartment is really lovely, Blaine," Daniel commented as he followed him inside.

"Thanks." Blaine walked towards the living room, where Max was playing. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Max glanced up from his plastic cars as Blaine approached him. When he noticed there was someone else in the room, he frowned a little bit, but let his uncle pick him up.

"Daniel, this is Max," Blaine said, a little nervously. "Max… this is Daniel. Can you say hi?"

Max blinked at the stranger and didn't burst into tears, which seemed an improvement. But the night was still young.

Daniel raised the little blue bag. "I brought you something, Max! Would you like to see what it is?"

Blaine smiled into Max's hair, who now seemed a bit more interested, as Daniel revealed a firetruck. He touched a little switch under it, and the lights on the roof of the truck began turning on and off. Max reached his hand for it.

Blaine let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I think he likes it," Daniel grinned, looking proud of himself.

Blaine kissed Max's forehead and put him back down on the play mat, before turning back to Daniel. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And this is just for us adults," he showed Blaine the bottle of wine. "I hope it goes well with the food."

"I'm sure it's fine. Dinner's almost ready," Blaine said, and gestured for Daniel to follow him, as he headed into the kitchen. "I'll give you a proper tour later, but I don't want the bread to burn."

"It smells _delicious_ in here, Blaine," Daniel practically moaned. "Can I help with anything?"

"Uhm, there's a container in the fridge," Blaine pointed with a wooden spoon, as he checked on the sauce. "It says Monday dinner on it. Can you grab it for me? I need to heat it up for Max. If I give him spaghetti, I'm just going to spend all dinner worried he'll choke on it."

"Do you want me to stick it in the microwave? What is it?" Daniel asked.

"Sure, thank you. Just two minutes, and I'll check it's not too hot," Blaine replied, as he turned the oven off. "It's some leftover Mac-and-Cheese that Kurt made yesterday."

Daniel didn't say anything as he put the container in the microwave and set it to two minutes.

Dinner was nice, though most of the conversation got interrupted by Max, who was in the mood to be the center of attention and kept trying to throw his food around the room instead of eating it.

"I'm sorry," Blaine apologized, when Daniel tried to start the same story for the fifth time. "He's not usually this messy. I don't know why he's doing this."

Daniel put his hand on Blaine's, reassuringly. "Blaine, don't worry. I don't mind, really."

They cleared up the table afterwards, and Max got fuzzy and upset, so Blaine took him to his bedroom to get him ready for bed. It took him almost twenty minutes to get Max calmed enough to even allow to be put into his crib, and then ten more minutes of singing so he would fall asleep.

Blaine discovered Daniel had done the dishes while he was busy with Max, and was now sitting on the couch in the living room, changing the channels on the television.

"You didn't have to do the dishes. I could have taken care of that in the morning," Blaine said, as he joined him.

Daniel shrugged. "I wanted to."

"I'm sorry it all seems so uncomfortable tonight," Blaine said, burrowing into Daniel's side when he lifted his arm to make room for him. "We're not very used to the company. We're… learning, I guess."

"You don't have to apologize, Blaine. Nothing's wrong," Daniel reassured him. "And I had a nice time, by the way."

Blaine swallowed, trying to make a decision. His body screamed for it, but his head wanted to analyze a long list of pros and cons. "Had a nice time? Does that mean you're leaving?"

Daniel licked his lip and looked at him. "Not yet."

"You could… stay," Blaine murmured.

Daniel's reply was to kiss him until he couldn't breathe.

* * *

Blaine woke up the following morning with a man between his legs.

It took him a second to remember Daniel had stayed the night. Then he hit the back of Daniel's throat and came so hard he almost forgot his own name.

"Good morning," Daniel said with a smug smile.

"Uh, yeah, morning," Blaine said, blinking stupidly at the ceiling.

Daniel shifted until his body (his strong naked body) was covering his. He began kissing Blaine's neck. "Last night… fuck, Blaine. I can't stop thinking about it."

Blaine licked his lips, trying to force his foggy brain to work. "I can tell," he mumbled stupidly, because he could feel Daniel's erection against his thigh. His hands began travelling south to help him with it…

And then Max started crying.

" _Shit_ ," he muttered, and pushed on Daniel's shoulders to get him off. "I'm sorry. I need to… I'll be right back…"

"It's fine," Daniel said, stretching his arms above his head. "I need to shower or I'll be late for work, and I should stop by my apartment and change my clothes. If I show up on yesterday's clothes, I'll never hear the end of it at the office." He rolled his eyes as Blaine fished for his underwear under the bed. "Do you mind?"

"What? Oh, no, go ahead. Use whatever you need," Blaine said gesturing towards the bathroom, and dropped a quick kiss on his lips before leaving the room to get to Max's.

Blaine changed Max's diaper and then took him to the kitchen. He put the kid in his high chair and then immediately turned the coffee maker on. He was tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, but it had been _worth_ it.

As he made breakfast, he remembered Daniel's body on top of him, the way he had moved against him, how good the stretching was, how deep he had felt him…

Daniel appeared in the kitchen in his underwear, and Blaine's thoughts short-circuited again. He pressed a kiss to Blaine's shoulder and sniffed the coffee.

"I'm making eggs and toast…" Blaine said. "Is that okay?"

"That sounds good. And lots of coffee, please" Daniel said, and Blaine gestured which cupboard the mugs were in. "You have fantastic water pressure, by the way."

"I know. Little silver lightings," Blaine chuckled, and watched as Daniel took a light blue mug from the cupboard. "Oh, that's Kurt's mug. Grab the green one."

Daniel blinked. "What?"

"That's the mug Kurt always uses," Blaine replied, as he put the toast on a plate. "He'll be here any minute and he'll go straight for the coffee pot."

"He brought his own mug?" Daniel asked in confusion.

"Oh, no, that's just the one he likes," Blaine said shrugging. "Do you want cream cheese?"

Daniel stood there for a moment, staring at the light blue mug. Then he put it back in the cupboard and grabbed a green one. He poured some coffee. "No, thank you."

"Can you watch Max for a second?" Blaine asked. "I'll jump in the shower really quickly."

"What about breakfast?" Daniel called after him.

"You eat, I'll make some more after I shower!"

Daniel looked down at his coffee, lost in thought. There was an uneasy sensation in his stomach.

There was a sound of keys in the lock, and two seconds later, a new voice rang through the apartment. "Good morning!"

Max immediately started bouncing on his high chair. Daniel didn't need to ask Blaine to know who it was.

* * *

Kurt stepped into the kitchen and his smile became frozen on his face as he stared at the half-naked stranger standing against the kitchen counter drinking coffee. He almost dropped his keys, and then held them so tight he could feel them digging against his palm. Was this Daniel? Had he stayed the night?

He had clearly stayed the night.

"H-hi," he said stupidly. "I'm Kurt."

"I'm Daniel," the guy said, reaching a hand to shake his. He was so muscled and perfect, Kurt had to resist the temptation to look down at himself to make a comparison that would end up in some pretty sad results.

"Nice to meet you," Kurt said, and turned to Max, because he didn't want to keep looking at that man's body. Oh god. Oh god. _Blaine had slept with him_.

"Well, now that Max's in good hands, I'll go get dressed," Daniel said. "There's fresh coffee. Your mug's in the cupboard."

Kurt frowned at his back as Daniel left the kitchen.

"Hi buddy," he said to Max. He was _not_ going to cry. He wasn't going to be that stupid.

Max smiled broadly at him, as if saying "I like you so much better than the half-naked douchebag."

Kurt was unbuttoning his coat when Blaine walked into the kitchen, his hair wet, the ends of a bowtie dangling from his neck. He was a dream, and he had spent the night in another man's arms.

 _Stop acting like you're in a fucking telenovela_ , Kurt told himself angrily. _You're not in love with him. Everything's fine. Let the poor man be happy._

"Good morning, Kurt!" He exclaimed with a smile that could weaken Kurt's knees in a second.

"Morning, Blaine," he replied, turning back to Max.

"Would you like some coffee?" Blaine didn't wait for Kurt's answer. He knew him well already. He poured some coffee in the light blue mug and handed it to him. "Would you mind giving Max his breakfast? I'm running a little late this morning."

"No, go ahead, do your thing," Kurt said, sitting at the table next to Max.

Daniel returned, now fully clothed, and grabbed his own cup for a sip. "Shit. It's much later than I thought."

"Language," Blaine and Kurt said automatically.

Daniel looked at them, eyebrows all the way up in his hairline. "What?" Blaine tilted his head towards Max. "Oh! Right. I'm sorry." He smiled at Blaine and wrapped his arm around his waist. "Thank you for last night. Talk to you later?"

 _Why don't you just pee on his leg, jeez?_ Kurt thought bitterly.

"Sure," Blaine answered, and Daniel kissed him. Blaine just blinked at him dazedly after he pulled away.

Blaine walked him to the door, which gave Kurt just enough time to dry the rebel tear trying to make its way down his cheek.

* * *

It was a busy week. Blaine had no idea how the papers he needed to grade had grown into such a huge stack, but there they were, and they needed to be dealt with. Daniel called a few times to make plans, but Blaine had to regretfully decline.

Now that his body remembered what it had been missing, it screamed for more.

"What if we do something on Saturday instead? We could go somewhere?" He proposed.

"I would love to, but I have to work on Saturday. There's an event the magazine wants me to cover and I'll probably be caught up in it all day long," Daniel said, sounding truthfully sorry. "What about Sunday?"

Sunday was okay with Blaine. When the weekend finally rolled around, his to-do list was considerably shorter and he was looking forward to relaxing a little bit. The weather was unseasonably warm and sunny, and he thought it would be nice to spend some time outdoors, maybe take Max to the park, have a little picnic. When he ran the idea by Daniel, he agreed enthusiastically, so Blaine and Max went grocery shopping on Saturday to find treats for the next day.

So on Sunday morning, while Max played on the kitchen floor with his cars, Blaine busied himself by arranging a lovely picnic basket. He put cut-up fruit in a plastic container, made sandwiches and a potato salad. There was another container with baby carrots and celery sticks, and one more with hummus. He packed crackers, walnuts, and chocolate chip cookies, and some extra things for Max. He rolled up a blanket carefully and put it on top of the basket's lid. Daniel had said he would take care of the drinks, and he was just thinking that he needed to text him to remind him to bring a thermos with coffee, when he turned to check on Max and nearly fainted.

The baby's face was slightly red and blotchy. He was blinking quickly, as if his eyes bothered him, and he looked up at Blaine, completely confused and scared.

"What happened? Max?" He kneeled on the floor in front of him, and lifted his shirt, finding more red spots on his belly and arms. "Oh my god. Oh my god. What…"

Between Max's fingers, there was a walnut. He must have dropped it when putting them in the container. There was a huge chunk missing from the nut.

"Did you eat that?" Blaine asked hopelessly, and when Max tried to let out a little sob and instead wheezed painfully, Blaine panicked. "Oh my god. _Shit, shit, shit_."

Blaine grabbed Max in his arms and ran to the closet for his coat. He wrapped the kid carefully in it, reached for his keys and phone, and left the apartment, feeling his chest tight with worry. The elevator was taking too long, so he simply ran down the stairs, holding onto the boy, and taking the steps two at a time. Once in the street, he stopped a cab and told the driver to take them to the hospital.

Max started having trouble breathing by the time they reached the next corner.

"Oh shit. Shit. Hang on, buddy. I'm getting help. It'll be okay," Blaine murmured, rubbing his back in comfort.

"He's not gonna puke all over the seat, right?" The driver said, looking at them through the rearview mirror. "I just got the car cleaned."

Blaine glared at him over his nephew's head. "Just fucking _drive_."

Blaine didn't remember the hospital being so far away. He had taken Max regularly for his check-ups since the accident, and he could swear it only took ten minutes to arrive. Now, the minutes seemed to drag eternally. He kept his eyes on Max, checking for new red spots, and was horrified to find his little hands now covered in them. Max looked up at him with miserably swollen eyes, and Blaine had to bite his lip not to burst in tears. What the hell had happened?

When the taxi stopped in front of the hospital, Blaine threw a few bills at him without even checking how much he was paying. He was sure he'd just threw at least one hundred dollar bill plus a few twenties. He didn't care. He just flew out of the car and into the hospital as quickly as his legs allowed him to, and practically flung himself to the nurse at the reception desk, tears clinging to his eyelashes in desperation.

"Please, please, I don't know what's wrong with him. Please, help him," Blaine begged.

The nurse immediately called for help, and before Blaine could stop them or understand what was going on, they were taking Max away from him and through a set of doors he wasn't allowed to cross. He stood in the middle of the hallway, hands shaking and trying to blink away tears.

His knees seemed ready to give up on him, so he found a seat and dropped down, grabbing his head in his hands. How the hell had this happened? How had he been so careless? Had he even known that Max had allergies? Was that what this was? He was never buying walnuts again for the rest of his life.

He was shaking so hard he thought he would never stop. The last time he had been this scared was when he was going to the hospital after Cooper and Sara's accident. Before he found out his brother was dead. And now Max was here, and something Blaine had done had put him in a hospital and he couldn't…

Having trouble breathing, he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number before he even knew what he was doing. He didn't even think. He just knew he needed something, someone to be here, someone to tell him everything was going to be okay. Why was never someone else with him when the worst things happened?

"Hi Blaine, what's up?" Kurt said on the other end.

"We're at the hospital," he muttered, sniffling. "God, Kurt, I'm so… I don't know what to do."

"The hospital?" Kurt repeated, and he could hear the worry, the fear in his voice. "What happened?"

"It's Max," Blaine replied. He looked up at those doors. Somewhere behind them, his nephew was with a bunch of strangers, and probably scared beyond words. "I… I don't know what happened. We were in the kitchen. I think… I must have dropped… he ate it and I… there were red spots all over him and he looked so miserable…"

"Tell me where you are," Kurt interrupted, his tone firm and confident, exactly what Blaine needed right now. "I'm leaving my apartment now. Just tell me where to go."

Blaine gave him the hospital's address. "You don't have to…" He muttered. "I don't know how long…"

"Blaine, I'm on my way. Everything's going to be fine. Just… take a few deep breaths, alright?" Kurt spoke to him slowly, softly, calmly. He was like a balsam on Blaine's injured soul.

Waiting for Kurt felt almost as long as the ride to the hospital. Everywhere Blaine looked, families huddled together as they waited to hear about their loved ones well-being. There was an older couple crying, hugging each other tight, visibly grieving after some bad news. A woman with two young children smiled at a man who seemed to be her twin brother as he came out to announce he was a dad. And Blaine sat, alone in a corner, his only family behind those doors, and his world tilting on its axes, ready to fall.

Kurt burst through the doors like a tsunami, looking around for him frantically. As soon as he saw him, Blaine stood up and went towards him, falling into Kurt's arms and squeezing his face against his neck. Kurt rubbed his back and whispered: "It's fine, it's fine. It's going to be just fine."

For a few moments, they just stood like this, forgetting everyone around them, and just letting the closeness comfort them. Blaine's fingers dug into Kurt's back, pulling him impossibly closer, as if that would make everything else go away. But then Kurt pulled away, cupped Blaine's face in his hands and studied him carefully, worry painted all over his blue eyes.

"How about you take a seat, I get you a cup of coffee, and you tell me what happened?" Kurt asked, voice soft and calming. Blaine simply nodded. "Okay. Deep breaths for me, Blaine."

Blaine sat in the same chair and watched as Kurt walked to a coffee machine on the opposite wall. He was wearing black sweatpants, something Blaine had thought didn't even exist in Kurt's closet, and a thick hoodie under his unbuttoned jacket. He looked comfortable, and soft, and Blaine wanted to burrow into his side until this nightmare was over.

Kurt sat next to him and passed him a plastic cup of coffee. "Careful, it's hot." He took a sip from his own cup and made a face. "And absolutely disgusting. But it'll do you good. Drink up."

Blaine obeyed, mostly because he didn't know what else to do. It was true - it was probably the worst coffee he had ever had - but the warmth travelling through him made his hands feel steady for the first time since he'd left his apartment. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, can you tell me what happened?" Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine explained the incident in the kitchen and what he thought had caused the rash to appear all over Max's little body. "How can I not know if he's allergic to something? What if it wasn't the walnut? What if there's something else in my apartment slowly killing my nephew?"

When he realized Blaine was panicking again, Kurt pressed a comforting hand against his knee. "He would have shown symptoms before, I'm sure. It must have been that. We just need to wait and see what the doctors say. Did they tell you anything before they took him away?"

"Nothing," Blaine replied, rubbing his eyes. God, how had this happened? "They just grabbed him and ran. I barely had time to tell them his name. They just… he's so little. And they are strangers. He's going to be so scared…"

"He's strong," Kurt assured him with a little smile. "He can pull through this."

Blaine leaned a little on Kurt's side. "I can't go through this again, Kurt."

Kurt didn't need him to explain. He knew what he meant. "This has nothing to do with that. Max is going to be fine."

"This wouldn't have happened to Sara, or Cooper. They would have known…" Blaine mumbled, as a few more tears made their escape through his eyelashes.

"You don't know that. Parents make mistakes sometimes," Kurt said. He leaned his head on top of Blaine's where it was now resting on his shoulder. "You know, when I was six, my Dad got me a dog for my birthday and it turned out I was awfully allergic."

Blaine's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah," Kurt smiled a little at the memory. "I was so happy to finally be allowed to have a puppy that when I discovered the rash, I simply hid it. I stole my mom's make up and covered all the red spots so they wouldn't notice. I brought the puppy into bed with me and snuggled with him to sleep that night."

"What happened?" Blaine asked in a whisper.

"I woke up at two in the morning and my throat was almost completely closed," Kurt explained. "I couldn't breathe. I yelled for my parents with the little air I could gather into my lungs and they rushed me to the hospital. They had to keep me in for observation, and when I got back home, the dog was gone. My dad put him up for adoption. I was so angry with him… but I understood, eventually."

"Did you…?" Blaine began to ask, but just then a doctor came through those damn doors.

"Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine was on his feet so quickly that he almost got dizzy. Kurt followed, and put a steadying hand on his back. "Yes, yes. How's Max?"

"He's doing okay, Mr. Anderson," the doctor said with a calming smile. "As you probably guessed, he had an allergic reaction. He was having trouble breathing so we used an EpiPen and then administered some Benadryl. His swelling is already nearly gone. He's going to be just fine."

Blaine breathed out, and Kurt's arm wrapped around his shoulders tightly. "Can I see him?"

"Of course," the doctor said. "If you'd please follow me."

Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and pulled him in with him as they followed the doctor through the doors and down a long corridor. Max was in a small room with a nurse, looking at her with distrust over the head of a teddy bear someone must have given to him to calm him. There were tear tracks running down his cheeks and he looked so scared Blaine's heart nearly broke in half.

He dropped the teddy bear and began babbling incoherently as soon as he saw them come in.

Blaine ran the rest of the distance towards him and hugged him close, kissing the top of his head and saying how sorry he was over and over and over again. Then he pulled away a little bit to examine him, as if he needed to make sure with his own two eyes that he was just fine.

"You'll find a big bruise on his thigh," the nurse told him. "It's from the EpiPen. We'll show you how to use them and give you a prescription so you have a back-up at home in case this happens again. But I'll give you a few minutes with your son, and then we can talk about those precautions, okay?"

Blaine didn't bother correcting her. He didn't bother telling her that his real father was Cooper, who should have been here holding his kid tightly, grateful for every little breath he took. He was too relieved to see Max was okay to care.

Kurt approached them slowly, smiling at them. "I told you he's strong. Had a bit of a scare, Max? You're going to give your uncle a heart attack one of these days."

Blaine chuckled and cried all at the same time. "Heart attack? My heart needs to be in my chest for that. I'm pretty sure I dropped it on the kitchen floor when I looked at him."

They spent a few minutes trying to cheer up the clearly upset kid, who looked at Blaine like he was super offended for being left to the care of complete strangers, and Blaine nearly fainted all over again when he saw the big blue bruise on Max's little thigh. He apologized again, whispering into his thin black hair, as Kurt rubbed his back and hoped there was more he could do to help.

Finally, the nurse came back and gave them a smile. "You ready to learn a few new things?"

"Of course," Blaine, replied, all serious and committed.

Kurt sat with Max and they played with the teddy bear while Blaine and the nurse talked in the other end of the room, keeping the EpiPen away from Max's sight in case he freaked out. Then she handed him the doctor's orders for the Benadryl and the EpiPen, and told them they were free to go, since Max had gone all back to normal now.

Blaine joined them, and planted one more guilty kiss on Max's head. "Remind me to teach you how to use the EpiPen in case of… uhm."

"Of course. It's not going to happen again, but of course," Kurt said, a reassuring smile on his face.

After Blaine was done with all the paperwork, they walked out of the hospital. It was a little past noon, the sun was high up in the sky, and it didn't look like the world had stopped while Blaine was panicking in a waiting room. Nothing had happened to Max, but if it had, nothing would have changed out here, and that thought _killed him_. This tiny human being, who was the most important part of Blaine's life. How could the world not stop while he was hurt?

As they waited for a taxi, they both watched Max, who seemed to have gone completely back to normal. They marveled at the kid's resilience, and Max smiled back at them as if saying "Did you think I was going to let a fucking _walnut_ ruin my day? Think again."

God, they loved him.

Blaine looked at Kurt, like he was truly seeing him for the first time since he had arrived at the hospital. "I'm sorry for calling you like this on a Sunday. I just… I didn't know what else to do and I was freaking out by myself."

"Blaine, _always_ call me if you need me," Kurt said, his blue eyes fixed on his, to let him know he meant it. "I don't care what time it is, or what day it is. You call me."

"Were you in the middle of something?" Blaine asked guiltily, as they climbed into a vacant cab.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Just in the middle of a yoga session with Rachel. Hence my super fashionable outfit," he pointed down at himself. "Don't ever tell anyone you saw me like this, or I will have to end you."

Blaine laughed. "I'm still sorry for interrupting. I feel like I should make it up to you…" He shook his head. "Actually, why don't we go have lunch? Now that the panic left my stomach, I've noticed it's completely empty. We can grab a bite somewhere. Unless… you just want to go home."

"No, lunch sounds nice," Kurt smiled, and then booped Max's nose. "Just not walnuts."

"God, no. Never again," Blaine groaned, letting his head fall back against the seat, and then told the driver they had changed their minds and to take them somewhere else instead.

* * *

They ended up in a quaint pizza place just three blocks from Blaine's apartment. They chose a little table by the window and drowned their last few hours of stress in cheesy goodness. Max wasn't in the mood for food, understandably, and fell asleep against Blaine's chest. Kurt watched him fondly.

They talked. They weren't in the mood to tap into serious topics, or to revisit any more childhood allergy anecdotes, so they talked about other things instead, things they still didn't know about each other despite the increasing amount of time they seemed to be spending together. Blaine babbled about his favorite books and every reason why Kurt needed to read them, and Kurt talked about all the Broadway shows he had seen when he first moved to New York, and how he hadn't found the time or money to go to any new ones in a long time. They talked about their favorite movies, and laughed at the fact that they could reenact the entirety of the _When Harry Met Sally_ New Year's Eve scene without missing a single word. Kurt told him about how he loved designing his own clothes, but how he didn't have enough time for that lately. Blaine told him how much he loved to travel, but how it looked like an almost impossible thing to do at the moment.

Not once did Blaine check his phone. He completely forgot about the picnic basket sitting on his kitchen counter and the plans he had made for his Sunday before a simple walnut derailed the day.

They walked back to Blaine's apartment together, Max still half asleep in Blaine's arms. It was still a beautiful day, and they enjoyed the fresh air as they walked, knowing soon it would be freezing cold again. As they rode up in the elevator, Blaine tried to fish his keys out of his pocket, but it was a little difficult while holding Max. He passed him carefully to Kurt as the doors of the elevator opened on his floor.

"I forgot my keys in my bag. I didn't even think to grab it before I left the apartment," Kurt said, readjusting Max against his shoulder as Blaine successfully pulled the keys free.

"It's fine, I'm surprised I remembered to grab them at all," he replied, and then froze, when he realized there was someone standing at his front door, hand raised as if to knock.

Daniel turned to them, shocked at first. Then his eyebrows lowered over his eyes, and something else flickered in them. Disappointment? Hurt? It was gone too quickly to properly identify it. He glanced at the three of them, at Max comfortably snuggled against Kurt's chest, at how easy their whole dynamic was, and stepped away from the door.

"Daniel…" Blaine breathed, and then closed his eyes. "Shoot. I forgot to call you."

"I sent you a million messages when you didn't show up," Daniel said seriously. "I got worried when you didn't reply and came here to check on you. But it looks like you were busy somewhere else…"

"I had to take Max to the hospital," Blaine explained tiredly. "Allergic reaction. I just… god, it was awful. I'll tell you about it later, but I honestly don't want to think about it for now."

"I see," Daniel said, his gaze flying back to Kurt for a moment before settling on Blaine again.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He knew when he wasn't needed. He knew when he was out of place.

He dropped a kiss on Max's forehead and put the sleeping kid on Blaine's arms. "I should go, anyway. Rachel must be waiting for me. Uhm, it was nice seeing you again, Daniel."

He fled before Blaine could even thank him again. He passed the keys to Daniel and said "Could you open the door for me?"

Daniel wordlessly grabbed the keys and opened the door, letting Blaine and Max in first before following them in. Blaine went straight for Max's room, to let the little boy in his crib, and then into the kitchen to get rid of those fucking walnuts for good.

Daniel watched him from the entrance, as Blaine frantically explained what had happened, and how scared he had been. He told him how he had called Kurt because he had been so nervous he hadn't known what to do. "I was so relieved when I saw Max again and knew he was fine that I completely forgot about anything else. I'm so sorry I didn't call you," he said, as he kneeled and used a sponge to clean the floor with bleach. He was going to clean the whole fucking apartment until there was no evidence whatsoever that a walnut had ever even existed in here.

"I just wish you would have called me when you were at the hospital," Daniel said in a low voice. "I would have gone to keep you company, to help."

"I just couldn't even think," Blaine muttered, looking up at him, sincerely sorry.

Daniel was silent as Blaine moved around the kitchen, cleaning almost maniacally. Then he said, in a whisper: "You know, Blaine. I don't ever want to have to go through what my ex did to me again. I don't think I can do that."

Blaine frowned at him, like he had no idea what he was talking about. "What…? I know. That was a terrible thing."

"So if you have feelings for someone else…" Daniel looked at him pointedly. "I would like to know that before I let myself get in too deep with you."

Blinking in confusion, Blaine tried to figure out what this had to do with what had happened today. But it seemed important for Daniel, somehow, and at the lack of anything else to say, he simply replied: "Okay. But we're fine. There's no one else."

Daniel looked at him like he didn't believe him.


	15. Chapter 15

It took Blaine a few days to get over the allergy incident. He became obsessed with checking the ingredients in every single package of food and cleaning his apartment so thoroughly it would have been hygienic to eat off the floor. He felt so guilty about what had happened, that he needed to make sure that, no matter what, he wouldn't have to rush Max back to the hospital for the same reason ever again.

Both Daniel and Kurt kept telling him that there was no reason to be so worried, but he didn't listen. There was nothing that could make him stop.

Until one thing distracted him just enough.

Blaine would never forget the date: it was the second day of February. He was mopping the kitchen floor before going to work, Kurt watching Max in the living room, balancing his right leg where it was crossed over his left one, lazily sipping on his coffee and thinking of a paper due later that week. And then he glanced at Max to check on him, and his eyes widened. He almost spilled his coffee.

"Blaine! Blaine, get in here right now!"

There was a sound, like the mop bucket had spilled all over the floor, and then Blaine rushed into the living room, panicked. "What? What is it?"

Kurt already had his phone out, pointed in front of him. "Look. _Look_."

Blaine followed his gaze, confused by the broad smile on Kurt's face, and gasped in surprise.

Max was standing on his own two legs. He was focused on a DVD box he was holding, looking at the pictures in it, and not paying attention at this amazing new thing he was doing. Then he seemed to have noticed he had an audience, because he turned to look at them and fell on his butt.

"Oh my god," Blaine chuckled. He went right towards him and held him, hugging him tight. "Look what you did! Look what you did, big boy!"

"See if he can do it again!" Kurt exclaimed, excited, still pointing at them with his phone.

Blaine placed Max on the floor and slowly backed away to give him room. Max looked at him like he was insane. "Okay, come on now, Max." He smiled. "Come on. You can do this."

"Go, Max," Kurt said, bouncing a little on his feet, unable to contain his joy.

Max glanced at them, as if trying to decide which voice to follow.

"Come stand behind me, Kurt," Blaine said, gesturing at him to hurry.

"Oh look at him. He almost looks taller like this," Kurt cooed, as he crouched right behind Blaine.

"Shush, you're going to distract him. Let's just wait to see what he does."

"No, you should call him, so he'll go to you…"

"He's not a _dog_ …"

While they bickered, Max took a step. They immediately shut up, holding their breaths as if scared one more word would break the spell. He swayed a bit on his unsteady feet and went for a second step. Blaine reached his arms to catch him in case he tripped.

"You're doing great, Max!" Blaine cheered. Max looked at him, and gave him the biggest of smiles. Laughing, he threw himself into his uncle's arms, and Blaine lifted him in the air in celebration. "Yes! You did it! Your first steps, kiddo!"

With his free arm, he pulled Kurt into the hug, and Kurt touched the screen to use the frontal camera, and focused it on their three happy faces. He and Blaine started kissing Max's cheeks until he was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe.

"Oh, he's going to give us so much more trouble now," Blaine said as Kurt tapped the phone screen to stop filming. "He's going to start running around. We'll have to pay extra attention."

"I'll keep an eye on him, don't worry," Kurt replied, holding Max as he followed Blaine to the kitchen. "Now you go or you'll be late for work."

"I know, I know," Blaine babbled. He looked around the kitchen, which was a mess. "I should…"

"I'll clean it. Just go," Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Okay, thank you. Can you send me that video, please?" Blaine asked, dropping one more kiss on top of Max's head.

Blaine rewatched the video a million times that day, and sent it to Sam and Daniel, squealing in excitement. One more milestone. And his first birthday was coming in just a few weeks.

He smiled sadly as he pressed play again. The two people he wanted to show it to the most were the only ones who weren't there to see it.

* * *

Daniel watched the video for a second time, and wondered what exactly Blaine was expecting him to reply. Sure, it was exciting that Max had taken his first steps, but the way he and Kurt behaved together…

He felt a little dizzy watching them. Did they really not notice the electricity between them or did they pretend it wasn't there?

He couldn't believe someone could be _that_ clueless.

* * *

Soon, Blaine's apartment seemed to grow smaller, just as Max's feet became steadier. The little boy was soon walking all around the place, getting faster every day, and keeping Kurt on his toes. It was becoming difficult to keep up with him, and there was no way to distract him with the TV or his usual toys: now that he had discovered there was something new he could do, Max had an endless source of energy.

That's why when he arrived at work that morning, while Blaine was pouring extra coffee for the both of them, Kurt said: "Hey, would it be okay if I took Max out for a while today? There's a storytelling event for kids his age at the public library, and I thought he'd enjoy going somewhere new."

Blaine watched him, leaning against the kitchen counter. "I guess it could be nice." He tried to hide his smirk with the mug. "He's driving you crazy, isn't he?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's not about me. I think he's the one going crazy, always trapped inside the same four walls. Maybe it'd be good for him. He could play with other kids, socialize. He must get bored with only old people like us."

"Hey, speak for yourself," Blaine said, pretending to be offended, and Kurt chuckled. "Alright. You can take him. Just give me a call when you get back, okay?"

"Of course," Kurt took a sip from his coffee.

"Oh, by the way, I was meaning to ask you…" Blaine said, as he took his own empty mug to the sink. "Max's birthday is coming up, on the 21st."

"Oh, already?!" Kurt said, surprised. "How the hell is he growing up so fast?"

"Beats me," Blaine shrugged. "It seems like it was yesterday he couldn't even sit by himself and now he's running all over the apartment." With a longing sigh, Blaine said: "The thing is… I feel like I should do something special for him, you know? What do you think?"

"Of course, he deserves to be celebrated," Kurt said. "What do you need me to do? I can bake a cake, if you want."

"You would? Really? That would be great, Kurt!" Blaine smiled broadly. "Maybe we can have a little party? I mean, it'll be all grownups, but I hate the idea of him not having a party at all."

"Well, duh, inviting people means he gets presents, so I think Max is going to be happy, no matter who comes," Kurt replied. He fished his notebook out of his bag and looked for a blank page. He started a list of the things they needed. "Cake. Decorations. Guests. Who did you have in mind?"

"Sam, definitely. And he'll want to bring Mercedes," Blaine said, as Kurt wrote it down. "Oh, and Daniel, of course."

Kurt reluctantly added the name to the list.

"And… well, that's sadly it for me."

"So it'd be four grown-ups, plus the birthday boy…"

"Four?" Blaine interrupted, confused. "What, did you think you were not invited? Kurt, don't be ridiculous. Max adores you."

"Oh," Kurt bit his lip, secretly touched. "That's so nice. Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure," Blaine looked at him like he was crazy. "Maybe you can bring Rachel? Or any friend you want? The more the merrier."

Kurt beamed at him. "I'll talk to her, but I'm sure she'll be on board. Okay, so I'll take care of the cake…"

"I can buy some decorations." Blaine glanced at the clock. "I have to run, but we can discuss more later?"

"Sure. Start thinking what kind of cake you want!" Kurt exclaimed as Blaine kissed Max's forehead goodbye.

"I trust your excellent judgement," Blaine winked. "Let me know how that visit to the library goes! Have fun, boys!"

Once Max was done with his breakfast, Kurt wrapped him in a thick coat to protect him from the chilly February weather, and they left the apartment. It wasn't very usual for them to be out by themselves. The only exception were Wednesday mornings, when Kurt had Blaine's class, and Max stayed in Sam's office during it. Kurt usually picked up the boy there and walked to the apartment with him. It was still a little nerve-wrecking, knowing he was responsible for Max's safety out here in the big wide world. Kurt was always so suddenly aware of all the dangers that surrounded them. Still, Max remained seated in his stroller, looking around with interest and not giving him any trouble, so after a couple of blocks, Kurt began to relax.

New York City was decorated for Valentine's Day, which Kurt tried to ignore. However, it was hard not to notice the giant red hearts in every store window, the jewelry ads with disgustingly cheesy couples, and the restaurants' boards showing their romantic menus for the date and reminding everyone to make their reservations.

Kurt glared at every single one of those horrible reminders of his perennial loneliness.

The library was already full with kids and their parents or nannies. It looked like this was a monthly event, because most of the adults were chatting amongst themselves like they were already familiar, and the children ran around laughing, playing together as they waited for the activities to begin. Kurt immediately felt out of place. He helped Max out of the stroller and parked it against the wall, where everyone else seemed to have left theirs. Max stood next to him, one finger in his mouth, his fingers closed in a tight fist in Kurt's pants, watching distrustfully at all those strangers.

"It's okay, sweetie," Kurt said softly. "If you get bored, we can just go home. But I thought it could be fun to see kids your own age for once. Wouldn't that be nice? Having someone to play with?"

Max tightened his hold on him. Kurt thought he would have to talk to Blaine, depending on how this went. If Max didn't start hanging out around other kids, he would have a really bad time once he started kindergarten, or even elementary school. He hated thinking that maybe Max would isolate himself, have no friends. Such a sweet little boy… he didn't want him to go through some of the shitty things he had gone through.

A lady with a funny hat and a book under her arm clapped her hands to get everyone's attention, and invited people to take a seat on the floor, where a sea of pillows made a semi-circle around her. The parents and nannies began to gather their children, and sat with them on their laps. Kurt followed their example, and Max snuggled against his chest, watching everyone with quiet interest.

The lady had a big monkey puppet that she used to talk about the story. Max pointed at it with big eyes, looking at Kurt as if saying "did you see that monkey? He's awesome and I want one." Kurt smiled down at him, as Amigo the Monkey told them a story about the beauty of sharing and making friends. Max listened attentively, mostly entranced by the puppet, until the story was over, and when all the other kids started clapping, he clapped too. Kurt smiled into his hair.

Two more women joined the first lady and divided all the kids into groups for activities. Kurt encouraged Max to go with them, and watched as he settled at a little table where they were going to do some finger painting. Kurt stayed on the floor, watching him, ready to jump in and rescue him at the first sign of discomfort.

Kurt startled when someone sat next to him and said: "I don't think I've seen you around here before."

Kur turned to face the newcomer, and found an attractive man around his own age (maybe one or two years older?), with soft red hair and friendly green eyes, grinning at him. His freckled face was almost mesmerizing, and Kurt had to remind himself to close his mouth, which was hanging open with a quiet gasp.

"Hi! No, this is our first time," Kurt said, remembering how words worked. "I'm Kurt."

The man shook his hand. "Noah. And I'm guessing that's not your own kid, Kurt? Though I have to say you two have beautiful blue eyes."

Kurt laughed, allowing himself to feel delighted at the compliment. It had been a while since a guy had paid him one. "Thank you. And no, Max's not my kid. I'm his babysitter. Nanny. Still not sure which word applies to our situation."

Noah chuckled. It was a nice sound. "Nanny's fine, I guess. I do hate it when people say Manny, though. Like you need to throw the 'man' part around to remind everyone you're not doing a woman's job. What kind of insanity is that?" He rolled his eyes. "Mine's the chubby blond kid over there. His name's Brady. I've worked for his family since he was born, and he just turned two."

"Max is going to be one in a couple of weeks," Kurt commented. "He's an angel. I'm very lucky I got this job."

"Brady is a good kid, too. A little spoiled, maybe, but his parents are filthy rich, so what would you expect, right?" He shrugged. "They fill his day with a bunch of activities, too. After this, I have to take him to swimming lessons, and then piano. Piano, can you believe it? He's two."

"Seems a bit too much," Kurt agreed. What kind of childhood would that be? "I mean, he's just so young."

"He is. Still a baby, really," Noah said. He looked at Kurt, interest written all over his gaze. "So what about Max's parents? Are they cool?"

Kurt decided not to talk about Cooper and Sara. "His uncle's raising him," he said, his tone of voice making it clear that he didn't want to answer any questions about that. "He's amazing, really. A great guy."

"I'm glad," Noah nodded thoughtfully. "And what about you? Are you in school?"

While Max painted, making a mess of colors with his hands, Kurt and Noah talked about themselves. Noah was in Med school, hoping to be a pediatrician one day. He was twenty four, and he let it slip very smoothly that he was single, and had broken up with his last boyfriend four months ago. Then he gave Kurt a smile that made it obvious there was a reason why he was mentioning this.

Max walked back towards Kurt, one of the library ladies behind him to help him, carrying his new drawing and showing it to Kurt with wide eyes.

"Oh sweetie! Look at that, you're a natural!" Kurt said, looking fondly at the colors blurring together.

Max gave him a big smile.

Once all the activities and games were over, the adults began putting on their coats and calling for their children. Noah and Kurt stood up, too, and Noah glanced at him.

"So…" he cleared his throat. "Would it be too crazy to ask you out?"

Kurt left the library ten minutes later, with a sticky drawing in his bag and a new number in his phone.

* * *

Noah said he wanted to take him out on a date two days before Valentine's Day. Kurt thought it was an unusual request, and when he said so, Noah admitted he didn't want the pressure of the most romantic day of the year hanging over their heads.

"But, if it all goes well, I get to see you again two days later," he had said over the phone, his voice soft and nice in Kurt's ear. "And I have a feeling I'll really want to see you again."

Kurt smiled. He couldn't not to.

It ended up being a lovely day. They both needed to be up early for work the next morning, so they went out for coffee, to a cute little place in Brooklyn Kurt had never been to before. They made excellent mochas, though, so he was sure he would be coming back soon.

He was shocked at how easy it was to talk to Noah. He was kind and funny, and everything he said was interesting, never boring, never self-centered. And the fact that he was gorgeous didn't hurt either. Kurt had gotten lost for a moment trying to count the freckles on his perfect cheekbones.

Afterwards, he walked Kurt to the bus stop and dropped a quick, chaste peck on his lips, and his face had gone almost as red as his hair. He was cute. He was… perfect.

Kurt leaned on the closed apartment door once he was inside. Rachel watched him from the couch, where she was wrapped in a blanket changing the channels on the television.

"And?" She asked, expectant.

So Kurt told him exactly what he had been thinking. "He's perfect. He's everything I have ever wanted."

Rachel waited for more. Kurt closed his eyes and banged his head against the door for a moment. She turned the TV off and turned a little on the couch to face him fully. "But…?"

Kurt's blue eyes settled on her. She saw how lost he was, how sad. "But I think he's a few months too late."

Rachel lifted the corner of her blanket, and Kurt kicked his shoes off, dropping his bag on the floor, before joining her. She hugged him against her side tightly. "If he's so perfect, I think he's worth a shot, right? Give him time."

"Maybe," Kurt sighed and cuddled a little closer. "It'd be nice to have a date on Valentine's Day. And he's a nice kisser."

Rachel hummed, leaning her head on top of Kurt's. "I miss that."

"What? Kissing?" He asked, looking up at her.

"Yeah. I think that's what I miss the most. Just kissing," she shrugged a little. "Finn was a great kisser. I think it also had to do with the fact that he was so much bigger than me. Every time he kissed me, it was like a full body experience. He held me so… completely, you know?"

Kurt bit his lip. "You must hate me. I keep complaining about my love life and I… I know how hard it's been for you, Rach."

"Oh please. That doesn't mean you're not entitled to drama," she said. "And I have to say I'm living vicariously through you at the moment."

Kurt groaned. "What for? The guy I truly, truly like is probably going to be banging that Latino Adonis on Valentine's Day, and I'm going to waste a perfectly good guy who seems to like me just because I can't get over him. Trust me, you don't want to be me."

Rachel elbowed him lightly. "You know, there's an ice cream sale at the grocery store…"

"Fill the freezer," Kurt muttered immediately, in a bitter voice. "It sounds like we're both going to need it."

* * *

Kurt didn't think a trip to the emergency room would be the most romantic Valentine's Day date, so he looked at Noah a little skeptically. "I don't think you know exactly what you're getting yourself into."

Noah chuckled and pressed the skates into Kurt's hands. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

It was a cold night, and Kurt was wearing his favorite coat. He did not feel like falling on his ass wearing it. He glanced quickly at all the couples ice-skating together and realized that he hadn't yet tried this. He had been at Rockefeller Center a million times since he had moved to New York, but there were so many things he still hadn't tried.

The look on Noah's face was enough to convince him. He had promised this was only the first part of their date: the second included a nice dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant not far away. Noah had seemed delighted to brag about how the family he worked for had pulled a few strings so he could get a reservation with such little time in advance. "Perks of the job," he said bashfully, and Kurt couldn't help thinking he was insanely cute.

They got into the rink. Kurt didn't let go of Noah's hand. He considered himself a graceful person, but he didn't trust in those damn skates. He was not about to make a fool of himself in front of all these people.

Noah didn't look like it bothered him. In fact, he held onto Kurt's hand a little more tightly.

"I feel like Bambi," Kurt laughed, feeling utterly ridiculous.

"You just need more practice," Noah assured him, grinning widely. "I can't believe you've never been ice-skating. It was one of my favorite things to do as a child. I actually wanted to be an Olympic figure skater."

"You're kidding me," Kurt said, looking up at him.

"Nope. I really did," Noah moved to skate in front of him, backwards, so he could hold both of Kurt's hands and guide him. "But I also wanted to be a doctor, a firefighter, a cop, and an astronaut. I was a very versatile child."

Kurt laughed. "The doctor thing stuck around."

"It did," Noah shrugged. "I just like the idea of helping people."

Kurt couldn't help the warm smile tugging at his lips. "I like that."

"Me too." He suddenly let go of Kurt's hands and moved away, out of reach, making Kurt shriek embarrassingly. "See? You've got this under control! You're a natural!"

 _I can definitely like him_ , Kurt thought to himself, as he struggled not to fall on his butt. _If I give myself time to stop being such an idiot, I can like him. He's so perfect. Where the hell was he three months ago?_

When it was almost time for their reservation, Noah helped him out of the rink. They took their skates off and began walking down the street, hand in hand. It was nice. It was so, so nice, and Kurt wanted this to be real. It was almost something out of a movie, and it seemed impossible, so impossible for this to be happening to him.

And even more impossible that he had to focus really hard not to be thinking about someone else.

They had almost reached the restaurant when Noah stopped, in the middle of the sidewalk. People looked at them moodily, like every New Yorker who sees their path suddenly interrupted. Kurt frowned at him, curiously, wondering what was wrong.

"You know, I don't want to wait until the end of the date to do this again," Noah murmured, and placed a hand on Kurt's cheek, pulling him closer. Kurt held his breath, and didn't stop him.

He truly was an amazing kisser. He was sweet, soft, and gentle. The hand that wasn't cupping his cheek was placed on Kurt's waist, as if trying to bring him even closer. Kurt could feel Noah's heartbeat all through their layers of clothing.

Kurt fisted a hand on Noah's scarf. _Kiss him. Enjoy it. Forget everything else._

Never had a kiss been more perfect, and yet Kurt felt like everything about it was wrong.

* * *

Blaine knew this probably wasn't the Valentine's Day date Daniel had had in mind when they talked about doing something, but he truly couldn't offer anything else. Still, dinner had been nice, and maybe they could just go to his apartment and watch a movie after he put Max to sleep. Daniel had known what he was getting into when they started dating: Blaine came with a baby, and that baby was currently crashing the most romantic of all nights.

Blaine pushed the stroller. Daniel was telling him about something that had happened at work today, about a scandalous affair between the editor and the receptionist, and how they had been caught having sex in the janitor's closet. Apparently love was in the air, and people went insane this time of the year.

They turned a corner, and Blaine was about to comment on how uncomfortable having sex in a janitor's closet seemed (seriously, it sounded too crowded and unhygienic), when he stopped, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, the stroller's wheel five inches from the couple kissing passionately in front of them.

Daniel stopped talking when he realized Blaine wasn't paying attention anymore, he too glancing at the two boys obstructing their way. His eyes shifted from them to Blaine, and back again. Blaine felt his hands tightening slightly at the stroller's handle.

"Kurt?" He said, his voice a little higher than normal.

Kurt pulled away from the red haired man and looked aside, eyes wide and cheeks tinged with a blush. His lips were unusually pink, and his hand was wrapped in the stranger's scarf, like he was trying to pull him even closer. He blinked at them in confusion. "Oh, ah. Blaine…"

"I don't think I know your friend," Blaine said, tilting his head curiously.

"This is Noah," Kurt introduced. "Noah, this is Blaine. Max's uncle."

"Oh, the boss!" Noah said with a charming smile, offering his hand to Blaine. "It's nice to meet you. You have a cute kid."

Blaine felt even more confused than before. "You… know Max."

"We met at the library during story time!" Kurt exclaimed, looking a little awkward. "Noah was there with the kid he works with, too…"

"Right," Blaine nodded, feeling a little stupid. "Right, you just… never mentioned meeting anyone. There. At the library, I mean."

Daniel cleared his throat pointedly.

"This is Daniel, my…" Blaine began saying, and then stopped. "Daniel."

"His Daniel, apparently," Daniel rolled his eyes and smiled as he shook Noah's hand. "Nice to meet you. And nice to see you again, Kurt."

By now Max was bouncing in the stroller, happy to see Kurt, so Kurt leaned in to plant a kiss on the top of his head.

"We have a dinner reservation to get to," Noah said, pointing at the restaurant down the street. "It was great meeting you all! Have a nice Valentine's Day!"

"You too," Blaine muttered, and watched as Noah wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist to guide him towards the restaurant. Kurt looked over his shoulder once before they went inside, and smiled briefly at Blaine, before looking away very quickly.

Daniel was looking at him in silence. Blaine didn't even realize it took a couple of minutes for him to stop watching the spot where Kurt and Noah had disappeared into the restaurant. He shook his head minutely and simply began walking again, not saying a word. He was clearly lost in thought, and didn't talk again until they arrived at his apartment.

"Let me get Max to bed and then we can watch a movie," he said distractedly. "Why don't you choose something?"

"Actually, you know what?" Daniel said, from the doorway. "I'm kinda tired, so… I think I'll just go, if you don't mind."

Blaine was taking Max out of the stroller. "Oh, sure. No problem. I'll call you tomorrow?"

They said goodbye with a quick kiss. After Max was asleep, Blaine got the bottle of wine he had put in the fridge for the night, and uncapped it. He poured himself a glass and went out to sit on the balcony, a thick blanket wrapped around himself.

If they had met at the library, they hadn't been together long. When had Kurt taken Max to story time? Monday? Tuesday? They must have really liked each other to be kissing like that in the middle of the sidewalk, without a care in the world.

Blaine felt like there was a sudden hole in his stomach. Maybe something he had eaten at dinner wasn't sitting well with him. He put the glass down and watched the traffic below. There were couples kissing in every corner tonight. The most romantic night of the year.

He went to sleep alone.

* * *

Kurt was distracted. He couldn't help it. Every time he tried to put Blaine behind him… Manhattan was a big island, and they had to walk the same street on the same night, bump into each other. It had been a nice kiss. Why did Blaine have to ruin it?

Noah touched his hand delicately to get his attention. "This is not going to work, is it?"

Kurt wondered how he knew. And then realized he had been silent during the entirety of dinner. "I'm sorry, I'm just… in the clouds. I'm listening now."

"No, Kurt. I think…" Noah shook his head. "I saw how everything changed in just one second when you saw him. And I've sort of wondered if there was someone else you liked, because after our first kiss, and our conversations, it always looks like you're trying to force yourself to be there with me in the moment, instead of with someone else in your head. And it's Blaine, isn't it?"

Kurt hid his face in his hands. "Am I that obvious?"

"Just a little," Noah shrugged, looking a little sad. "I don't think he noticed, though."

"I'm so sorry. You're… you know, I actually told my roommate that you are everything I have ever wanted," Kurt admitted, feeling pathetic. "It's just…"

"I'm not him," Noah finished for him.

"I feel so bad," Kurt bit his lip.

"It's fine. And hey, at least I got a date and great kiss with an attractive guy on Valentine's Day. So it wasn't exactly a waste of my time." Noah fished his wallet and got some money out to pay the bill, ignoring Kurt's protests. "Don't worry about it."

"But this is so unfair…" Kurt insisted. "Let me at least…"

"Kurt, really, forget it," Noah said kindly. "I'll walk you to the bus stop, okay?"

Kurt wanted to bang his head against the wall repeatedly. Hopefully until he passed out and forgot what an embarrassment he was.

He hoped Rachel had filled the freezer with that ice-cream, after all.


	16. Chapter 16

Kurt was taking the cake out of the oven when Blaine entered the kitchen, carrying Max wrapped in a towel and fresh out of his bath.

"You know, I was thinking…" Blaine said, shifting Max's weight to adjust him on his hip. "You should invite your boyfriend over for Max's birthday, if you want. What was his name? Noah?"

Kurt placed the cake on the counter and removed the oven mitts before he replied. "Yeah, Noah. But, uhm, he's not my boyfriend. We… well, it didn't work out."

Blaine nodded very slowly. "I see. I'm sorry, then, Kurt."

Kurt gave him a strange little smile, and didn't say another word about it.

* * *

Looking around the room in obvious confusion, Max was sitting on Blaine's lap. Kurt stood before them, phone raised to take pictures, and trying to get the little boy's attention. "Here, Max! Look at me!"

Max followed his voice, as he always did, and Kurt snapped the picture. He had taken over the role of photographer for this little party, since Rachel hadn't been able to make it, and he felt a little out of place. Daniel was permanently on Blaine's side, and Sam and Mercedes were one of the most disgustingly cute couples he had ever seen before, so Kurt was uncomfortable beyond words. It was still worth it, being there for Max, seeing his eyes widening as he stared at the lit candles on top of his cake, and at the balloons invading every available corner of the apartment. There was a large sign that said _Happy 1st Birthday Max!_ hanging behind them on the wall, which had taken Blaine and Kurt about two hours to make.

"Kurt, you should be in at least one of the pictures," Blaine said, giving him a soft smile. "Come on. You did most of the work here."

"It's fine, it's fine," he assured him. "I'm not…" _I'm not part of this family. I'm just the nanny._

"Don't be silly," Blaine insisted, and nudged Daniel a bit. "Would you mind taking the picture?"

Daniel glanced at him, silent for a moment, before a smile appeared on his face. "Not at all."

Kurt took a seat next to Blaine, feeling increasingly awkward as Daniel pointed the camera at them. Max, always happy to have Kurt close, grinned widely without being prompted for the first time. Blaine wrapped his free arm around Kurt's shoulder, pulling him just a little closer.

They sang the happy birthday song. Max had no idea what to do about the candle, so Blaine and Kurt blew it out for him, laughing. Sam and Mercedes clapped and cheered. Daniel put the camera down after taking one more picture. He wasn't in it, but with Kurt right next to Blaine, and Max sitting between them, it looked just right.

* * *

Everyone left, but Kurt stayed behind to help Blaine clean up. Max had fallen asleep not long after stuffing his face with the cake. The apartment was much quieter than it had been ten minutes ago. Kurt gathered a few more dirty plates and took them to the kitchen, where Blaine was standing at the sink. However, there was no sound of water, and the dishes were still piled up, untouched. Blaine's hands were pressed against the counter, his head bent down, his shoulders tense. Kurt didn't need to look at his face to know he was crying.

Not wanting to startle him, Kurt placed the plates on the kitchen table, and approached him carefully. He put a hand on his back, and Blaine immediately turned to him, as if his touch was enough to make his body react, and wrapped his arms around him, hiding his face in Kurt's neck.

"Hey," Kurt whispered, heartbroken.

Blaine didn't say a word. He just sobbed brokenly against him, and clung to him as if his life depended on it. But Kurt didn't need him to talk. He understood. He understood how Blaine had made the effort to look cheerful and fine while Max and all his friends were there to see it. He understood how hard it must have been for Blaine not to crumble in a million pieces at the obvious absences in that room, at the voices not singing happy birthday to Max for the first time.

He understood what it felt like when you were so sad, all you had strength left to do was cry.

Kurt held him tight, and let him cry, because it was the only thing he could do.

* * *

The closer they got to Spring break, the crazier the semester got. Blaine had to increase his office hours in order to accommodate all the students who needed help with papers, deadlines and the reading materials. Other professors weren't as considerate, but Blaine knew it was a stressful time for all of them, and still remembered how desperate he had felt himself when he was still a student. Kurt didn't mind the extra hours, either, and he said it was easier to work at Blaine's apartment, even with Max's cartoons playing in the background, than with Rachel at his own apartment.

So Kurt usually arrived in the morning carrying all his books, his computer and his notebooks, and parked at the coffee table, legs stretched on the floor under it, and typed like a mad man whenever Max didn't need him. He was grateful the summer break was approaching quickly, even if it was still months away. It was a hopeful horizon on his stressful, frantic days.

And a week off for spring break sounded just as heavenly to them right now.

On that Tuesday afternoon, Kurt walked out of Max's room quietly, after putting him down for a nap, and dropped back down on the floor, his back against the couch, to keep working on a paper due the next day. He only had to survive until Friday, and then he would have a beautiful week off to sleep and get some energy back before the end of the semester crushed him to pieces.

He was so focused on finding the perfect way to phrase his conclusion that when his phone began to ring, he accepted the call distractedly, without even checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Hi, Kurt."

He was surprised to recognize Carole's voice on the other end. "Hey Carole! How are you? Last minute fashion emergency?" He smiled holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he continued typing. She usually called him when she couldn't decide which shoes matched her outfit.

It took a second for her to reply, but the awkward and unusual silence was enough for Kurt to realize that something was wrong. "Kurt…"

"Where's Dad?" He asked, feeling his heart picking up speed. He held his phone with both of his hands now, trying to stop them from shaking.

"We're at the hospital, honey," she explained as calmly as she could. "He had another heart attack."

Kurt had to remind himself to breathe. "This can't be… is he okay? What did the doctor said?"

"Nothing yet," she said. "They're checking him right now. I just… I needed to call you…"

"Of course," Kurt said fiercely. He looked around the apartment, as if the answers to all his questions were somehow in there. He stood up. "I'll call Blaine to come home. I'll be there as soon as I can, Carole. Call me if there are any news…"

"I will. Let me know when you figure out when you'll be getting here," she told him, and after a quick goodbye, Kurt ended the call.

He was so scared he didn't know what to do. The only thing that sounded appropriate right now was to go out to the balcony and scream until his throat went raw.

He could feel the tears already running down his cheeks, but he ignored them. With shaky fingers, he dialed Blaine's number, and begged for him to answer. _Please, please, please. I need you. Please._

There was a murmur in the background when Blaine accepted the call, and Kurt guessed he was in class, and not in his office. He felt so lost and desperate that he couldn't even remember what time it was, or where Blaine was supposed to be.

"Kurt?" Blaine said in a low voice. "What's up? Is Max alright?"

"It's my Dad," Kurt replied, and every word felt like it took all his strength. "He's in the hospital again. He's had another heart attack…"

"Oh my god," Blaine murmured. "Is he…?"

"I don't know anything. But I need to go home," Kurt closed his eyes, forced himself to inhale, and exhale. "Can you…? Can you please come? I have to go."

"Yes, Kurt, of course. I'll be there soon," Blaine replied, and Kurt heard him as he moved quickly, probably shoving his things into his bag. "Just stay there with Max until I get home. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay. Thank you," Kurt whispered, letting himself drop down on the couch when he realized his legs weren't really supporting him anymore.

"It'll be alright, darling, just hang in there," Blaine murmured, and just before the call cut off, Kurt heard: "Sorry, guys. Family emergency. I have to…"

And then all Kurt could hear was the tone.

He was so relieved that Max was asleep, because he didn't think he could do anything right now, except curl up on the couch, his arms around his legs, and cry. Why did this keep happening? Why couldn't his father be healthy and happy and safe?

Knowing he would go insane if he just stayed there waiting, he took a deep breath and stood up. He began to gather his things, put the computer in his bag, along with his books and his notes. Fuck school. Fuck deadlines. The only thing that mattered right now was getting to Ohio.

Blaine must have taken a cab from campus, because he was there sooner than expected. He rushed into the apartment, his bag hanging crookedly from one of his shoulders, his scarf thrown carelessly around his neck, and his phone still in his hand. As soon as Kurt saw him, he let out a little sob he hadn't known he'd been holding back, and Blaine walked towards him just in time for Kurt to collapse into his arms.

"Hey," Blaine murmured, sweetly. He kissed Kurt's hair, the way he kissed Max's before going to work in the morning. "It'll be alright. If he's anything like his son, he won't let something like this defeat him…"

Kurt felt his lower lip shaking as he tried to smile. "No one pushes the Hummels around," he whispered brokenly.

Blaine chuckled softly. "That's right."

Kurt allowed himself a moment to regain his strength and his breath, and then pulled away, drying his tears stubbornly. "Thanks for coming so quickly."

"No problem," Blaine replied, and when he saw Kurt was already putting his coat on, in a haste to leave, he placed his hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Hold on. I got plane tickets while I was in the cab. There's a flight to Ohio at five thirty. There's still plenty of time to get to the airport. You're going to need a bag, some clothes… do you think Rachel could bring you some?"

Kurt marveled at how quickly Blaine could plan for these things. His own brain only had one thought: _go, go, go, go._ "You didn't have to…"

"It's nothing. And I don't want to leave you alone right now. You're not thinking straight and you shouldn't be alone. I bought three tickets. Max and I are coming with you."

"What?" Kurt's eyes widened. "Blaine, I couldn't ask you to…"

"You never have to ask, Kurt," Blaine smiled at him, and squeezed his hand. "We're not leaving you."

Kurt's heart gave a lurch in his chest for a whole different reason. "But what about work and, and…?"

"That's not something you need to worry about," Blaine made a dismissive hand gesture, and guided Kurt back to the couch. "I wouldn't feel okay letting you go by yourself. So just call Rachel, ask her to bring you a bag with whatever you need, and I'll go pack a few things for Max and me, okay?"

Kurt could only blink at him, unsure if Blaine Anderson was even real. "Okay."

Despite the crippling fear trying to choke him, Kurt was endlessly relieved that the shoulder he got to lean on was his.

* * *

Somehow, Max seemed to have understood that this was a very important flight, because he didn't cry once, not even when it was obvious how incredibly uncomfortable he was. Blaine held him on his lap and tried to distract him with different toys, as Kurt looked out the window and waited for the landing. He looked so tense, so scared, that Blaine couldn't stop himself from reaching for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. When Kurt seemed to relax minutely with his touch, Blaine held on and intertwined their fingers together.

Once they were at the airport, safe with their feet on Ohio land, Kurt looked around the terminal, as if he expected his Dad to walk through the crowd towards him and hug him. But no one was there to receive them, so Blaine guided him to the car rental place. Kurt held Max while Blaine took care of everything, and the little boy cuddled against his chest and smiled up at him so brightly, that Kurt almost forgot his own heart was trying to crumble into pieces.

As they drove away from the airport, Blaine behind the wheel and Max in the back in a booster seat, Kurt called Carole to let her know they were on the way.

"How is he? Any news?" He asked eagerly.

"No, sweetie. He hasn't woken up," Carole replied sadly.

Kurt thought back to his dad's first heart attack, when he was in high school. He remembered sitting beside his hospital bed, feeling so terrified that he was about to be all alone in the world. He remembered his father's face, so calm, like he was only sleeping, but yet so wrong. And no matter how many times Kurt called for him, he didn't wake up. It took almost a week, of waiting and waiting and waiting, until Burt returned to him.

Every new heart attack made it harder for Burt to come back to him, but it didn't mean Kurt stopped hoping to see his eyes blinking open.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked quietly once Kurt put his phone back in his bag. Kurt nodded absently. "I know that was a stupid question. I'm sorry. But I hope you know you're allowed to not be okay, Kurt. You don't have to pretend with me."

Kurt bit his lip, his blue eyes lost somewhere outside the window. "I'm scared."

Blaine kept his gaze on the road, but reached to squeeze Kurt's hand once more. "It's understandable."

"I know I'm bound to lose him one day," Kurt said, his voice shaky. "But I can't do that today. I can't lose him today. Not yet…"

"Don't think like that, alright?" Blaine said, glancing quickly at him. "We'll cross that bridge when we need to, but not yet. In the meantime… we'll get to the hospital, and even if there aren't any news yet, I'm sure you'll feel a little better just by seeing him. And then we'll figure it out from there, okay?"

Kurt nodded again, and then looked over his shoulder to check on Max. "You shouldn't have come. You didn't have to drag Max all the way to Ohio…"

"I meant what I said back home, Kurt," Blaine said softly, kindly. "We're not leaving you."

It was almost nine when they arrived at the hospital. Blaine found a place to park near the entrance, and they grabbed Max and his diaper bag and went inside. Kurt had gotten the room number from Carole, so they didn't waste time asking the staff for help - Kurt knew this hospital too well already, and guided Blaine to the elevator.

They reached room 203. There was a sitting area just outside, and Blaine told Kurt he would wait out there with Max, and to take his time. Right before Kurt headed for the door, Blaine gave him a quick hug, and a swift kiss to his cheek, and told him everything would be just fine.

Feeling a little lightheaded between the panic and Blaine's touch, Kurt went inside.

Carole was sitting beside the bed, her head resting on the back of her chair, and her eyes fixed on her husband. It took a moment for her to notice Kurt's arrival, but once she did, she was out of the chair and in his arms in record time.

Kurt glanced at the bed over Carole's shoulder, and his heart shrunk. The image that greeted him was eerily similar to that he kept in his memory from high school, only the man in the bed was now several years older.

"I'm so glad you're here," Carole murmured.

"How is he?" Kurt asked, and Carole pulled away to let him approach the bed.

"There's been no changes. The doctors say there's not much we can do except wait for him to wake up," she explained.

"What happened this time?" Kurt dragged the chair a little closer to the bed and sat down, immediately reaching for his dad's hand.

"I'm not exactly sure," Carole admitted. She dried the tears from her eyes. "I had just finished clearing up the dishes after lunch. I was in the kitchen when I heard a loud noise. When I went into the living room, he was on the floor. I ran to the phone and called 911, but he was unconscious when they got there. He hasn't woken up since."

"Have you been fighting? Has he been worrying about anything…?"

Carole gave him a sad smile. "Just the usual. You know how he is… it's impossible to get him to relax."

Kurt leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his father's forehead. "Why are you so damn stubborn?"

Carole rubbed his back comfortingly. "I'll go see if I can find his doctor, if you want to talk to him."

"I would like that, yes. Thanks, Carole," he muttered, giving her a little smile.

He knew it was mostly an excuse to give him some time alone with his father, but Kurt still appreciated it. Carole closed the door behind her, and the silence in the room was now only interrupted by the steady beeping of the machines Burt was connected to. He watched the monitors, somehow reassured by all the numbers and lines he didn't really understand.

There were a million things he wanted to say to his father right now, but none of them seemed to be easy to be made into words. He wanted to beg, to plead, to ask him in all the different ways he could think of to open his eyes, to say something, anything. To put him out of his misery. To stop doing this to him. Twice in less than a year was too much.

Burt's doctor was someone Kurt was, sadly, familiar with as well. It was the same one who had taken care of him during his heart attack, all those years ago. Doctor Hendricks shook his hand and gave him a polite smile.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything new," he said gently. "We did everything we could to stabilize him, and now it's mostly up to him."

"Unfortunately, I know the drill," Kurt said with a tired sigh. "Is there anything we can do to help? I could try acupuncture again?"

Doctor Hendricks made a helpless gesture. "It's not something I would recommend from a medical point of view, really, but… you know, it's worked for you guys in the past. I know how difficult it is to just sit and wait for your loved ones to come back. At this point, Kurt, if it helps _you_ during this difficult time, then do it. I don't think it'll do much difference to him."

Kurt ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I just… I can't believe we're here again. I thought…" He wanted to say he thought his Dad was getting better, but that would have been a lie. He remembered that painfully honest conversation they'd had during Christmas.

"One of you can stay with him tonight," the doctor offered kindly. "I'll be back in about two hours to check on him again."

"Okay, thank you so much," Carole said, and the doctor left, after one last reassuring nod.

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, and reached for Burt's hand again. "Blaine and Max are outside. They came with me."

Carole looked at him, a little surprised. "Really? That was very nice of them."

"Yeah, Blaine didn't want to leave me alone. I was a little nervous after your call," they glanced at each other, knowing that was the understatement of the century. "You must be exhausted. Why don't you go home? I can stay with him."

"Kurt, you know very well that I am not moving. I won't go anywhere until he can go with me," Carole said, lovingly arranging Burt's hospital gown. "But you should go home. Blaine and Max can stay at the house, too. You can't have the baby at the hospital all night long, and you must be tired from the flight, and everything. I'll be fine, as long as I can be here with him."

Kurt swallowed thickly. He didn't want to leave his Dad, but he knew Carole was right. They couldn't stay there all night.

They left the room together so Kurt could introduce Blaine and Max to her. They found them in the waiting area, where Blaine was trying to keep Max entertained playing his favorite cartoons on his phone. There were two cups of coffee on a little table next to him.

"Oh hey. I got you a coffee, but it might have gone a little cold," he said apologetically.

"It's fine. Thank you," Kurt smiled at him. "Blaine, this is Carole, my stepmom. Carole, this is Blaine, and this is Max."

"Thank you so much for taking care of our boy," Carole said, when Blaine stood up to give her a hug. "It means a lot to us."

"Please. I wouldn't have let him alone. Max and I are quite fond of him," he said with a teasing smile.

"Oh, this little cutie," Carole said, reaching to tickle Max, who for once didn't recoil from a stranger. "He must be so tired. Kurt, why don't you…?"

"Yes, yes, I know," Kurt said, after taking a gulp from his lukewarm coffee. The shot of caffeine into his system was enough to keep him going for a little longer. "But you have to call me. If anything happens…"

"I will." Carole placed a kiss on his cheek. "And we'll see you in the morning. Both of us."

Kurt nodded, his smile too tight, and there was nothing happy about it.

Max reached for him. Kurt grabbed him and held him tight, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips to the side of his little head. He felt the warmth of Blaine's hand as it rested against the small of his back. He felt surrounded and cared for, Blaine's and Max's presence keeping him sane.

"Let's go home," he said softly.

* * *

The house was dark, and too empty, painfully so. The remote control was on the floor, the kitchen table still had dishes left from lunch, and no one had been home to turn on the lights when the sun had set. Kurt stared at everything around him and tried to breathe in the scene from his Dad's heart attack.

He was aware of Blaine and Max behind him, waiting, giving him all the time he needed. He cleared his throat and told them to get comfortable. But there was nothing comfortable about this situation, and Kurt knew it.

"You and Max can have my room," he said quietly. His voice seemed to echo through the house. "I'll show you where it is, and then maybe we can have some dinner? You guys must be hungry."

In the end, they ordered a pizza, because none of them was in the mood to cook. Kurt set the table while Blaine was upstairs, bathing Max. They remained silent as they ate, Kurt too lost in thought, his mind and heart still at the hospital with his father, and Blaine unsure as how to help, how to find the right thing to say.

After they were done eating, Max began getting irritated - it was well past his bedtime, and he started crying like nothing would ever make him stop. With an apologetic glance Kurt's way, Blaine took him back upstairs, shushing him and singing quietly to get him to calm down. Kurt cleaned up the dishes, moving almost automatically, as if he was only going through the motions not to fall apart.

Once there was nothing else to occupy him downstairs, Kurt went up to the second floor, and knocked gently on his bedroom door, which was ajar, to get Blaine's attention. Max was almost asleep, so Blaine continued humming and swaying him gently.

"I'm going to take a shower," Kurt whispered. "I'll be just across the hallway, if you guys need anything."

"Thanks Kurt," Blaine whispered back.

Kurt walked to the door across from his and stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths as if trying to find the courage to open it. He entered, and turned on the light.

The room still looked the same. It was as if Finn had just gone out for the night but was expected to return home any moment to sleep. Kurt sat carefully on the bed. The sheets didn't smell like him anymore. Nothing smelled like him anymore. It had been too long already.

After a quick shower, Kurt got into bed, feeling completely foreign in this room. But his own bedroom was bigger and more comfortable for Blaine and Max, so unless he wanted to stay in the living room and sleep on the couch, this was the only option. He wouldn't step into his parents' bedroom. It smelled like Burt, and Kurt hoped it would smell like him for many, many more years.

Still, he couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure if it was the combination of fear and being in Finn's old bed, but he had never before been so awake. He toyed with his phone, considering calling Carole, but he guessed that no news was good news in this situation.

When tossing and turning got too maddening, he kicked the blankets away and padded quietly back downstairs. He had no idea if Blaine was sleeping already, but he didn't want to bother him, or Max. They had been too nice coming here with him, keeping him company. With a sigh, Kurt turned the light back on in the kitchen.

It seemed like the perfect time for his Dad's insomnia cure.

* * *

Blaine left the bathroom, toweling his hair dry and peeked at the bed to make sure Max was still calm and asleep. It had taken a while to make him comfortable, to get him to understand that it was okay to fall asleep here tonight, even if it wasn't their home. The kid was too used to their routine.

He checked his phone, letting the towel fall around his shoulders. Still no reply from Daniel. He had texted him to let him know they were in Ohio because Kurt's dad had had a heart attack. Maybe he was sleeping, but it was a little early for Daniel. They usually exchanged a few texts around this time.

He had already emailed work to let them know he was taking a couple of days off for a family emergency, as well as his students, to cancel their classes. He was sure they were glad for the unexpected time off, though he assured them they were still expected to meet their deadlines for the week.

He slipped into a clean pair of boxers, sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He wondered if Kurt was asleep already. Poor Kurt had looked so horribly scared since he'd gotten the call in the afternoon. Blaine had no idea how to help - he had come here all the way from New York, following him, but just being there didn't seem enough. He wanted to comfort him, to assure him everything would be alright. But he didn't want to lie. He didn't know if Burt Hummel would be alright. He was no doctor. He just knew he wouldn't be able to take the heartbroken look on Kurt's face if this didn't end well.

After glancing at Max once more to make sure he was okay, Blaine opened the door and quietly headed for the stairs. He needed a glass of water, and was surprised when he saw the light was on in the kitchen. He leaned against the doorway and watched Kurt, standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. It smelled sweet and spicy.

Kurt reached for a cupboard. He was barefoot, his hair not in its usual do, perfectly coiffed, but falling limply and still a little wet. He was wearing a black long sleeve shirt, the cotton fabric a little worn, and stripped pajama pants, so long they pooled around his feet. He looked so at home here, Blaine realized he was seeing Kurt Hummel in his natural habitat, for the first time ever. He guessed the tightness in his shoulders wasn't natural, though.

As Kurt placed a mug on the counter, Blaine cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Kurt looked over his shoulder and tried to give him a smile, unsuccessfully. "Hey. I thought you were asleep."

"No, I just got out of the shower. The water pressure here is _amazing_ ," Blaine commented, walking towards him.

"One of the only perks of Ohio against Manhattan," Kurt replied, pouring the contents of the pan into the mug. "Probably the only one."

Blaine hummed thoughtfully. "What's that?"

"Warm milk with cinnamon," Kurt said. "My Dad always made this for me when I was little and I couldn't sleep. I think my Mom made it before him, but I can't really remember. Would you like some? I can make more."

"No, I just wanted some water. Thank you," Blaine said, and Kurt gestured for him to go ahead, so he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He uncapped it and took a sip, as Kurt leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, drinking his milk. "I know it's stupid to keep asking this, but… are you okay, Kurt?"

Kurt licked his lips, and didn't open his eyes. "No. I'm not okay."

"I wish I could…" Blaine began to say, but Kurt opened his eyes, and just that flash of deep, sparkling blue silenced him.

"You're doing so much," Kurt muttered quietly. "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to be in this house by myself, waiting for the phone to ring? Just knowing you and Max are here… it's keeping me sane."

"We'll stay for as long as you need us to," Blaine assured him, taking a step towards him.

"Thank you," Kurt whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you…" His eyes settled on Blaine. "You have no idea what this means to me. What you mean to me."

Blaine felt a sudden tightness in his stomach that he couldn't explain. He placed his bottle on the counter. "Whatever you need, Kurt, just… let me know. You've helped me so much these past few months…" He shook his head. He couldn't even explain exactly how much Kurt had saved him, by letting him talk about Cooper, by being there for Max.

Kurt took another sip from his mug, and realized his hands were shaking slightly, so he put it on the counter next to the bottle of water. "I can't lose him. I know I will, but… I can't. He's everything, Blaine. He's the one constant in my life. I can't keep losing people…"

God, Blaine understood. The ache, the absence, the memories. It was all too overwhelming. "What was it you said, back at my apartment?" He said with a little smile. "No one pushes the Hummels around?"

Kurt laughed amongst his tears. "No one. Not even death."

Kurt's eyes were mesmerizing. They seemed to change color - the tears made them grey, and they slowly morphed back to blue, until they were so bright that Blaine felt a little blinded.

They were looking at each other, everything else suddenly forgotten. Blaine wanted to reach out and wipe his tears away, but he wasn't sure if he was allowed. His fingers twitched against his thighs. A strand of hair fell on Kurt's eyes, obstructing Blaine's view, and without thinking, he did reach out, and brushed it away. Then he cupped Kurt's face softly.

"Don't cry, Kurt," he murmured, because it shattered his heart beyond repair.

Something seemed to break in Kurt. Before Blaine knew what was happening, Kurt's hands were making fists in his shirt, pulling him closer, and bringing their lips together. Blaine gasped as Kurt kissed him, deep and desperate, tasting the sweetness of the milk, and the saltiness of his tears. He was making little needy noises that completely broke Blaine's resolve, and made him kiss back, just as desperately.

There was something so incredibly overwhelming about kissing Kurt. It might have something to do with the way their lips glided together, like they were dancing a perfect little number no one else could ever know the steps to. It might have something to do with the way Kurt's hands kept pulling him closer, until their bodies were slotted together like puzzle pieces. It might have something to do with the way Blaine could feel Kurt's heartbeat, right in sync with his own. It might have something to do with the way they needed each other, because no one else understood, no one else managed to bring those barriers down.

Blaine took a step forward, pressing Kurt against the kitchen counter, feeling breathless and dizzy. Kurt was making little gasping noises, like he couldn't breathe either, but still couldn't bring himself to break the kiss. Blaine knew what he was feeling - he felt that if he pulled away, something inexplicably magical would come to an end.

An insistent little melody seemed to be playing somewhere. It wasn't until Max began crying that Blaine realized it was his phone, which had woken his nephew. And those two sounds were enough to shoot him back down to earth.

He pulled away, panting. "Daniel," he said, and Kurt's wide eyes seemed to harden somehow. His hands fell from Blaine's shirt, limp at his sides. "That must be… I texted him. It must be him. And Max… I need to…"

"Go," Kurt muttered, looking away, and taking a step to the side, to get some distance between them.

Blaine didn't need to hear it again. He stumbled back up the stairs quickly and entered Kurt's old bedroom, rushing to Max to calm him.

He didn't pick up the phone. He couldn't talk to Daniel when his lips still tasted like Kurt's.

Daniel didn't call a second time. Blaine turned the cellphone off, and shoved it under the pillow. He looked at Max, who had stopped crying, but was watching him with big, bright eyes.

"What the hell did I just do?" He asked his nephew.

Just like Blaine, Max didn't seem to have a clue.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

It was almost seven in the morning when Kurt got the call from Carole. He was laying awake on Finn's bed, staring at the ceiling, his phone placed on his chest. He startled a little when it buzzed, but he immediately accepted the call, holding his breath as he waited for whatever news Carole was about to deliver.

Fortunately, they were good ones.

"He's awake," she said, the smile clear on her voice.

"I'll be there soon," Kurt replied eagerly, and sat up.

He hadn't slept. Between how worried he had been about his Dad and the incident ( _stupid, stupid incident_ ) in the kitchen last night, Kurt's brain hadn't stopped buzzing, making it impossible to fall asleep. He felt foggy, as if his head was full of cotton. But right now, he couldn't care at all: his Dad was awake.

He grabbed clean clothes from his bag and dressed quickly. He made a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth and try to put some sort of order to his hair, but ultimately deciding that he really didn't care, so he just brushed it back to keep it out of his face. He didn't care about how he looked. He didn't care about the dark marks under his eyes. He just wanted to get to his Dad.

For the first time since they arrived in Ohio, Kurt regretted letting Blaine come with him. He could have completely avoided the awkwardness of knocking his bedroom door the morning after he kissed him in the kitchen of his father's house.

Blaine opened the door almost immediately. He was still in his pajamas, and Kurt could see Max sleeping in the bed behind him. Blaine's hair was insanely curly in the morning. Kurt wasn't sure he had seen it before. His fingers seemed to itch to reach out and touch, but after what had happened the previous night, he should have known better.

"Hey. Carole called. My dad's awake," he said, and just uttering those words sent warmth all over him, enough comfort to help him through this.

Blaine's relieved smile was completely genuine. "Oh Kurt. That's great."

"I'm gonna go to the hospital. You can stay here if you want…" Kurt offered, half hoping Blaine would prefer to stay. It would give him time to think, to unravel what the hell his heart was doing inside his chest.

"No, no," Blaine said shaking his head. "We're coming with you. Just give me five minutes to get dressed and get Max."

"Okay," Kurt replied, and turned to head downstairs. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

"Be right there!" Blaine called after him, before closing the bedroom door.

Mostly to give himself something to do, Kurt opened the cupboard and got the can of coffee. As soon as the coffee maker started and the scent of coffee began to fill the kitchen, Kurt felt some of his nerves and anxiety give up. His Dad was awake.

He realized, sometime after getting Carole's call, that at some point he doubted he would hear those words again. He had been so scared that he had already had his last conversation with him, that he would never hear his laugh echo through the house, that he wouldn't see his name on the caller ID, that the relief was almost a tangible thing, something he could hold on and squeeze against his chest, never to let go of.

He couldn't wait to get to the hospital.

Blaine walked into the kitchen with Max in his arms just as Kurt was pouring the fresh coffee into two travel mugs. "Let me heat up Max's formula, and we can go."

Two minutes later they were in the car, pulling out of the drive way. Kurt drummed his fingers on his leg, nervously. He tried to think if there was ever a time when he felt so awkward around Blaine, but he doesn't think that ever happened. Even before he started working for him, getting to know him better, it had been so _easy_ …

"I'm sorry," Kurt said suddenly. Blaine glanced at him quickly before looking straight ahead again.

"You don't have to…" He began to say, but Kurt interrupted him.

"Yes, I do. What I did last night… God, that was so inappropriate," he hid his face in his hands for a moment. He couldn't forget the feel of Blaine's lips on his, the way his heart had been ready to beat right out of his chest. It had been so perfect. But it had been so wrong, too. "I was just… you know, stressed, and slightly insane. I wasn't thinking straight. I'm really sorry."

"You were upset," Blaine replied, shrugging a little, his eyes still on the road. "I can understand that, Kurt. You really have nothing to apologize for."

"I just don't want to ruin…" Kurt gestured vaguely at them. And he was seriously concerned about that: Blaine had given him the best job he'd had to date. He didn't want to waste that because of a little moment of weakness. The kiss would stay engraved in his mind forever, but it wasn't worth losing everything for.

"You can't ruin it. It didn't mean anything," Blaine smiled a little, but Kurt couldn't help notice it didn't reach his eyes. "We all do crazy things when we're upset."

The silence that followed, interrupted only by Max babbling nonsense from the backseat, was so charged that Kurt was afraid to move. _It didn't mean anything._ It had meant everything to him. But he couldn't tell Blaine that. So, just as he had done for the past few months, Kurt swallowed all his feelings and pretended things were back to normal. He had become the most expert of performers since falling in love with Blaine.

"So, what else did Carole say?" Blaine asked, as he took a turn to the left.

Kurt was glad for the question. As he filled Blaine in, he began to relax a little bit. It would take a while for him to look at Blaine, at his lips, and not remember the way it had felt to kiss him, but this was a good start. They needed to get back to normal. Kurt wasn't wasting a perfectly good job because he wasn't able to hold back his stupid feelings.

Once they arrived at the hospital, Kurt just couldn't walk fast enough to his father's room. Blaine followed close behind, Max hanging on to his neck and laughing as if they were racing, playing, just one more day of shenanigans. The sound warmed Kurt's heart a little bit, let him heal him just that little bit more.

They were reaching the door when Kurt noticed there was a group of nurses leaving the room. He panicked. What if something had happened? What if he was too late? What if…?

He pushed the door open all the way and rushed into the room, not realizing he had grabbed onto Blaine's forearm in alarm, and was pulling him along with him.

Burt Hummel was sitting against his propped pillows, looking moody and annoyed, if not a little pale. There was a tray in front of him, with the most unappetizing breakfast food Kurt had seen in his entire life, and Carole was standing beside him, smiling fondly as she straightened his blankets.

"Dad!" Kurt exclaimed, and as he ran towards him, he felt like he was a kid all over again. Seeing his Dad always had that effect on him. The years simply blurred and disappeared, and he was just a little boy, always eager to let his father catch him.

"Kurt," Burt sounded tired, but the smile on his face was entirely genuine when he saw his son.

Kurt threw his arms around his father's neck and held him tight, but making sure he wasn't hurting him. "Goddamn it, Dad. You have to stop scaring me like this."

"Sorry," Burt mumbled against his kid's shoulder. "I didn't exactly plan it."

"How are you? What did the doctor say? Why were all those nurses in here?" Kurt asked frantically, pulling away so he could study his father's face.

Burt rolled his eyes at his eagerness. "I'm fine. The doctor didn't say anything new. I need to exercise, and rest, and eat well. The same thing he's told me the last two times. And those nurses were bringing me this poor excuse for a breakfast and checking all these machines." He shrugged, like he didn't care. He looked almost completely normal, except for the exhaustion so clear on his face. It was obvious he was trying to look stronger for Kurt. "And who are these two?"

Kurt startled. He had almost forgotten Blaine and Max were standing behind him. "Oh, these are Blaine and Max. Blaine, this is my Dad, Burt Hummel."

Blaine stepped forward and offered his hand to Burt. "Very nice to meet you, Mr. Hummel. I'm very happy you're doing better. Kurt here was really worried."

Burt's eyes shifted from Kurt to Blaine as he shook Blaine's hand, and then back again. "Nice to meet you, too. Thank you for keeping him company. You didn't have to come all the way here."

"Max and I are very fond of your son," Blaine said with a little smile. "We didn't want to leave him alone."

Kurt looked down at his shoes. He wished Blaine didn't say those things.

Blaine squeezed Kurt's shoulder gently to get his attention. "I'm going to give you guys some privacy. Max and I will go to the cafeteria. Meet us there or text me later, okay?"

Kurt simply nodded, and didn't say another word, keeping himself busy by adjusting his father's breakfast tray.

Burt let himself fall more heavily against his pillows and watched his son. "So, you two…"

Kurt blinked at him, shocked. "What?"

"What's going on there?" Burt asked. He looked like he was almost ready to go back to sleep.

"Nothing," Kurt replied, again very focused on the tray. "He's my boss. _And_ my professor."

Burt chuckled sleepily. "And the guy you're head over heels for, huh?"

"What? Dad, I'm not…"

Burt's eyes fell closed. "Kid, maybe you're fooling _him_. But you can't fool _me_."

Kurt exhaled a shaky breath. He really didn't want to talk about this. "Go back to sleep, Dad. I'll be here when you wake up."

Burt nodded absently, and just before sleep took him, he mumbled: "… he likes you too."

Kurt stared at him, mouth hanging open, before he glanced up at Carole, who simply shrugged at him, with a little smile.

"He's never wrong about that stuff," she muttered.

"Blaine's not…" Kurt began to say, his palms getting unusually sweaty. "We're not…"

"Kurt, it's fine," Carole assured him softly. "You're allowed to be happy."

Except he really wasn't. Not when he had fallen for the wrong guy.

* * *

It wasn't easy to keep Max entertained in a hospital. Blaine thought it was better to just stay at the cafeteria, where at least Max didn't have to be absolutely quiet not to bother other people. He put all the toys he had brought with them on the table and played with him, as he sipped a second cup of coffee and popped bits of banana muffin into his mouth.

As usual, Max began throwing plastic cars in every direction as soon as all the other games seemed to bore him. Blaine tiredly picked them up over and over again, a little distracted. He hadn't slept much the previous night, not after what had happened in the kitchen with Kurt. Not after Kurt had kissed him. Not after he had kissed Kurt back.

He knew he was being stupid. Kurt had been upset, and had turned to Blaine for support, and things had gotten out of hand. Kurt probably didn't mean anything with that kiss, but the fact that Blaine had kissed him back just as enthusiastically made everything complicated: how could he explain to Kurt (his employee, his student) that he had kissed him back because it just felt _so right_?

It had taken him completely by surprise. He thought of Daniel (the guy he was supposedly falling in love with?) and he couldn't remember their kisses ever feeling like this.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He was definitely being stupid. He was stressed from work, and coming here with Kurt hadn't exactly been relaxing either. And being in hospitals always made him nervous. He just wasn't thinking straight. Once he could put some distance between himself and what had happened, everything would start making sense again.

Blaine saw Kurt step into the cafeteria, looking around obviously trying to find them, so he waved a little to get his attention. Kurt's eyes fell on them, and approached the table, letting himself fall on the chair opposite Blaine's.

"How's your Dad?" Blaine asked, as Max made grabby hands for Kurt.

Kurt pulled the kid onto his lap. "He's doing okay. He fell asleep again. The doctor says he'll be tired for a while, and we should let him sleep." Kurt shrugged. "Nothing he haven't heard a million times before. But at least it looks like he might be home by the weekend, if he doesn't give us any more scares."

Blaine smiled warmly at him, honestly relieved. "That's great news, Kurt." Instinctively, he reached for Kurt's hand, but as soon as his fingers brushed his skin, Kurt flinched away. Awkwardly, Blaine retracted his hand. "Uhm. Do you want me to get you some breakfast? More coffee?"

"I'll go get something in a minute," Kurt replied, avoiding looking at Blaine by keeping his gaze on Max. He cleared his throat. "I was actually thinking… you know, now that my Dad is awake and things seem to be going well… I'm going to stay with him here practically the entire day, and I don't think a hospital is a nice place for Max to be hanging out at…"

Blaine frowned for a moment. "You want us to go home."

"No, no, it's not like I _want_ you to go…" Kurt retorted uncomfortably. "It's just… you know… I feel bad that you guys are just wasting time here when you could be home. And you are missing work, and I know how busy this week was for you…"

Blaine watched Kurt fumble with excuses for a few more seconds before he forced a smile on his face and shook his head. "Hey, it's fine. You're right. I'll book our flights for later today, okay?"

Blaine wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but it looked like Kurt was breathing a sigh of relief.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Kurt drove his father's truck from the hospital to the house so slowly that Burt grunted in annoyance from the backseat.

"Kurt, seriously. You can drive a little faster. At this speed, we won't be home by Easter," he said.

Kurt paid no attention to him. "You didn't walk out of the hospital after your third heart attack only to end up in a traffic accident. Let me drive, Dad."

Once they were home, Carole helped Burt get into his pajamas and right into bed while Kurt went to the kitchen to make a healthy lunch for him. Burt knew it was better not to protest, and was secretly pleased that his family wanted to keep him around so much that they were willing to become a pain in the ass for it.

It wasn't until mid-afternoon, when Carole had gone grocery shopping and Kurt was keeping his father company, asking him every five seconds if he wanted to have a cup of tea or if he needed a blanket, when Burt finally asked the question that had been buzzing in his head for the past few days.

"So, what happened with Blaine? He went back to New York so suddenly."

He could feel Kurt getting tense next to him, before he forced himself to relax. "Oh, he couldn't stay so long. He was nice enough to come along, but he has work… he's really busy."

"I see," Burt nodded slowly. "It was really nice of him to come with you, though, make sure you weren't alone when you were so upset."

Kurt was suddenly very interested on the cover of a sports magazine they had bought for Burt when he was still at the hospital. "Sure. He's a nice person."

"I bet he is," Burt said calmly. "Otherwise you wouldn't be in love with him."

Kurt choked out the fakest laughter Burt had ever heard from him. "What? Dad, don't be ridiculous. I thought I made it clear back at the hospital that Blaine and I…"

"Look, Kurt, I might be old and sick, but I'm not blind," Burt said, stubbornly. "And I know you better than anyone. I see the way you look at him. And I hear a lot of what you don't say when we talk on the phone, too. You've been crazy for this guy for a while now, huh?"

Sometimes, being Burt Hummel's son was absolutely infuriating. "I hate it when you do that." He mumbled, angrily.

Burt looked dumbfounded. "When I do, what?"

"When you just _know_ ," Kurt exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. "It's so hard to keep stuff from you, and you always want to talk about them, and I don't even want to think about it because it's stupid, and pointless, and absurd, and so fucking inappropriate, and it _hurts_."

Burt's eyes widened as Kurt spoke. "Kurt…"

"Why are we talking about this?" Kurt asked, and the pain in his eyes was so clear, that Burt's heart squeezed in his chest. "I mean… if I have this stupid crush on someone I shouldn't think of that way… why? Why would you encourage it? Why aren't you telling me to forget about it?"

"When have I ever told you that your feelings are stupid or unimportant?" Burt frowned. "Kurt, I raised you to always go after what you want, to always pursue your own happiness, no matter what other people think…"

"I can't this time, okay?" Kurt said, hating himself for the tears he could already feel burning in his eyes. "I've listened to you, I've tried to live by everything you've ever taught me… but this? I can't do this, Dad."

"Why not?" Burt shrugged. "Okay, so he's your boss. He's your teacher. He's a little older. Ordinarily, I would tell you to stay away. But I've seen you with him. He's a good guy, and he cares about you. And when you're near him you look like you…"

"Even if all those things didn't matter," Kurt interrupted, because each of his father's words hurt like hell, "it would still be impossible. He has a boyfriend, Dad. He's… not interested in me. And I can't blame him. He must look at me and see one of his students, just a kid, someone who doesn't have life all figured out…"

Burt snorted. "Kurt, _no one_ has life all figured out."

"Please," Kurt begged, in just a whisper. "Just let it go. I don't want to talk about this. I need this time apart from him to be useful to actually forget about this stupid crush that I…"

"I don't think it's just a crush…" Burt mumbled, and Kurt glared at him angrily. "Fine."

Kurt looked defeated. He leaned on his father's side, and Burt immediately lifted his arm to wrap it around him, squeezing him gently. It wasn't easy to see Kurt like this. It had been a long time since he had let life get him down, probably since high school, when everything had been so hard, so complicated. Burt had thought that once Kurt left Lima, the universe would reward him for everything it had put him through so far. And he had hoped, every day, that Kurt would be able to find the love he hadn't found here.

"It looks like we both have some healing to do," Burt murmured with a sigh.

Kurt allowed his lips to form a little smile. "Then I'm glad we get to do it together."

* * *

It had been a hectic week for Blaine. After returning to New York, he had to make up for the time he'd been gone. It was incredible how fast work could pile up while you looked away for a moment. And considering Kurt was still in Ohio, it was even harder for Blaine to be able to catch up, since he had no one to stay with Max.

Sam was just as busy as he was, and Daniel was in Jersey covering a sports event. But even if Daniel had been available, something told him it wasn't a good idea to leave Max with him: even though he wasn't bawling every second they were in the same room, Max still hadn't warmed up to him very much.

In the end, Blaine ended up taking Max with him to his office hours. Sam agreed to have him in his office during a couple of Blaine's classes, and on Friday one of his neighbors agreed to have Max over on a playdate with her toddler. It wasn't ideal, but it was a temporary solution. Still, Blaine couldn't help but miss Kurt.

It was dangerous to have those thoughts, however. Ever since the kiss, things had seemed so entirely confusing. Blaine knew they both needed to put it behind them, since it hadn't meant anything, or things would get incredibly awkward. They needed each other - for work, of course - and it would have sucked if they couldn't be in the same room because they both were thinking about that incident all the time.

Blaine texted Kurt a couple of times, mostly asking for updates on Burt, and then decided to give him some space. Once he knew Burt was safely home, recovering with the help of his son and wife, Blaine sent his best wishes and told Kurt to enjoy his time with his dad and let him know if he needed anything. It was implied that he wouldn't be texting him anymore until it was absolutely necessary, and after Kurt told him he would spend spring break in Ohio and would be back in New York the following week, it didn't seem like there was much reason to keep talking, anyway.

It was weird, but the apartment felt a little emptier without him.

Max certainly seemed to miss him, looking around for him all the time.

Daniel was finally free on Saturday night, so they agreed to do dinner at Blaine's. Blaine learned it was incredibly difficult to try to make a quiche while chasing Max around the apartment at the same time. By the time Daniel arrived, Blaine wasn't on the best mood. Daniel gave him a peck on the lips and followed Blaine into the kitchen.

"Sorry, the food's not ready yet," Blaine muttered, as he leaned over to look into the oven. "Max's been impossible today. He demanded my attention and began running all over the place. I can't believe I was so excited when he took his first steps. I had no idea what I was getting into."

"Relax," Daniel said with a little smile, rubbing his shoulders. "Tell me how I can help."

"Set the table?" Blaine asked, with a pitiful look on his face. Daniel chuckled and complied.

It wasn't their most romantic dinner. They could barely utter a word: Max sat on his high chair, struggling to set himself free and throwing food everywhere. He cried and screamed, and drowned any attempts at conversation. Blaine closed his eyes in frustration, appetite lost.

"What's wrong with him? Do you think he's getting sick?" Daniel asked curiously.

"Actually, I think he misses Kurt," Blaine explained, as he freed Max from the high chair and sat him on his lap. "It's been an atypical week for him, what with going to Ohio, and then being dragged around because Kurt wasn't home to stay with him…"

Daniel's dark eyes followed him. There was a guarded, careful expression on his face that was absolutely unreadable. "Is Kurt's father doing okay now?"

Blaine sighed. "It's hard to say, after a third heart attack. I think he's as well as he can be. At least he's out of the hospital now."

Daniel nodded with his head slowly. After a pause, he said, suddenly very interested in his napkin. "It was very nice of you, going all the way to Ohio with him…"

"Yeah, well, he was very upset," Blaine said, as he tried to feed Max. He didn't want to send him to bed with an empty stomach.

"Still, it's a lot more than any employer would do…" Daniel commented nonchalantly. "You're so kind."

"Please, he's so much more than just some guy who works for me," Blaine huffed, so focused on Max that he didn't turn to look at Daniel's face. "He's basically saved my life. I couldn't get anyone to stay with Max. Max adores him, you've seen how happy he gets when Kurt walks into a room. He's great. I don't know what we'd do without him."

It was so difficult not to think about that kiss right now.

Getting Max to sleep was almost as impossible as getting him to eat. Blaine read him a book, sang him three songs, swayed him all around the room, and nothing seemed to work. He finally fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, and Blaine left his bedroom, closing the door behind him softly. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and sighed, feeling just as tired.

Daniel appeared in front of him, cupped the back of his head and kissed him. "You look like you need to go to bed as well," he said, and Blaine couldn't agree more.

Except sleep was the farthest thing from Daniel's mind. As soon as they were in Blaine's bedroom, he began to take Blaine's clothes off frantically, as if he'd had to make a great effort not to undress him during dinner, and now his resolve was finally breaking. Blaine let himself be pushed onto the bed, and Daniel straddled him, kissing him fiercely, hands travelling south.

Things got heated very soon. It wasn't usual for Daniel to be so desperate, to kiss and touch Blaine everywhere, almost desperately. The sheets soon became a mess of lube and sweat, and holding Blaine's hips in the air, Daniel buried himself into him with a sigh that sounded mostly of relief. Blaine hummed his appreciation, closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the sweet pull of pleasure. But Daniel seemed to want more. His hands were everywhere, his lips trying to reach every inch of Blaine's skin. His thrusts were erratic, his puffs of breath hit the back of Blaine's neck.

"God, Blaine," he muttered, sounding on edge already. "God, Blaine, _I love you_."

Blaine, who was pushing back with every thrust, suddenly froze. Pleasure seemed to melt away from his body, replaced by a cold tightness.

Daniel gasped, suddenly realizing what he had said. "I… Blaine…" His fingers were digging painfully into Blaine's hips. When Blaine didn't say anything, he simply whispered: "Blaine?"

"Daniel… I…" Blaine's head felt unexpectedly foggy. He knew there was something he was supposed to say, he just didn't know what and why.

"You are not in love with me, aren't you?" Daniel asked softly, and Blaine turned his head awkwardly to look at him, which wasn't easy in his current position.

Blaine couldn't think, not like this. Slowly, cringing, he pulled away from Daniel and fell on his back on the soiled sheets. Daniel hovered over him, staring expectantly.

Blaine had been in love before. He remembered what it had felt like - the way his heartbeat sped up when he saw him; how he couldn't avoid smiling when he was around; how he was the first thought on his head at the beginning of the day, and the last one at night. he thought back to the last few weeks with Daniel and how nice it had been having someone to go out for dinner with, someone to hold hands with as they walked down the street, someone he could talk about his day with. And he thought: _I should love him_. Everything seemed to follow into place, nothing had been wrong, Blaine should have been able to just say those words back.

But he couldn't.

When he didn't reply, Daniel chuckled humorlessly and rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling. "Wow. I can't believe I got it all wrong again."

"No, Daniel, I…" Blaine shook his head. He was confused and so, so sorry. "I'm sorry. I don't know what…"

"You know, for a while I thought things were so perfect. I was hopeful," Daniel said bitterly. "But then I saw you with Kurt, and I should have known."

Blaine frowned. "Kurt? What do you mean?"

"Blaine, please," Daniel looked at him, incredulous. "You talk about him all the time. The way you two behave around each other… it's just painfully obvious. And I was really stupid for somehow thinking it wouldn't be a problem."

"I don't understand," Blaine said, sitting up and reaching for the sheets to cover himself. It was already uncomfortable having this conversation: having it naked was almost unbearable.

"Don't tell me you don't have feelings for him, because I honestly won't believe you," Daniel rolled his eyes and leaned to get his underwear from under the bed. He began dressing quickly. "And even if you really don't see it yet… you're head over heels for him."

Blaine wanted to laugh. It was so ridiculous. But the laughter never came, and something about the way his heart was hammering in his chest gave him pause.

That kiss.

That damn kiss.

"Daniel…" Blaine called him, as he buttoned up his shirt. "This is so… I'm sorry. I'm not even sure what's happening. But I never meant to hurt you, and…"

"I know," Daniel gave him a smile, even if it wasn't a happy one. "You're one of the good guys, Blaine. I'm actually pretty sad this didn't work out."

Blaine was still trying to find a way to refute what Daniel had said. Having feelings for Kurt sounded completely insane. Even if that kiss had been amazing, and he couldn't stop thinking about it, and the way Kurt had gasped into his mouth was engraved in his mind like the most perfect sound he had ever heard. And those eyes, so mesmerizing, so breathtaking, that he could stare at for hours and still never figure out exactly what color they were, constantly morphing bluegreygreen. His smile, always so honest and perfect and sweet, and the way they seemed to fit together whenever they touched and how…

Holy shit.

Daniel was now completely dressed. He looked at Blaine for a moment, sadness written all over his face. He leaned down and kissed him on the lips briefly. "Bye, Blaine."

"I'm sorry," Blaine said, because it was the only thing he could think of.

"Not more than I am," Daniel whispered, and then turned on his heels and walked out his room. A few seconds later, Blaine heard the front door closing behind him, and Daniel was out of his life.

Shivering, Blaine crawled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. He stood under the water spray for a very long time, until the water went cold, trying to make sense of everything. _That kiss_. Had Blaine been feeling this for long without even noticing? _That kiss_. How could he be so damn clueless? _That kiss_. Had Kurt noticed, just like Daniel had? _That kiss_. Was that why he had kissed him? _That kiss._

_That kiss, that kiss, that kiss._

Blaine left the bathroom and changed the sheets. It was past midnight, and he felt so tired, but he laid there, staring at his phone for a very long time, considering texting Kurt, ask him how he was doing, maybe even calling him. Now that he knew this (something that suddenly felt so fragile and new and confusing), he wanted to explore it. He wanted to study the way his body reacted to interacting with Kurt: would he notice the racing of his heartbeat now? Would he shiver feeling the electricity whenever Kurt touched him?

Was it possible that Max had known all along? Was that why he kept reaching for Kurt, pulling him closer into their lives?

"This is insane," Blaine mumbled into the night, and even though it was definitely insane, it still made so much sense.

Like a puzzle piece had fallen right into place. The picture was complete now. And of course, _of course_ it was Kurt.

How had he not seen it?


	18. Chapter 18

Sam stared at him across the table, pizza slice halfway towards his mouth, which was now hanging open in disbelief. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

Blaine sighed. "Daniel broke up with me because I have feelings for Kurt."

It was a testament to how serious the situation was that, instead of taking a bite of pizza, Sam put it back down on his plate. "Blaine."

Blaine frowned, confused. "Sam?"

"Are you even serious right now? Are you kidding me?" Sam pressed his elbows against the table, leaning closer, as if he needed to study Blaine's face to see if it was a joke or not.

Blaine took a sip of beer. His throat was suddenly painfully dry. "I am not kidding."

"Blaine," Sam repeated, speaking as if he was trying to explain something very important to Max. "Kurt doesn't only work for you. He's also one of your students. And he's ten years younger than you."

" _Nine_ ," Blaine corrected, offended, like one year was a huge difference.

"Okay, _fine_ , nine years younger," Sam conceded, rolling his eyes. "This is completely insane. Do you need me to tell you this is completely insane, or can you actually see that for yourself?"

Blaine huffed in frustration. "I don't know, Sam. I didn't plan for this, exactly. It's all very confusing, and yes, okay, yes, it is insane. But… somehow it just… makes sense?"

"Look, Blaine, I want you to be happy. I'm sorry if Daniel wasn't the right guy for you, but you can find someone else. I have other gay friends," Sam said. "I can ask Mercedes. She must know someone…"

"Sam, it's not about that," Blaine shook his head, tiredly. He had thought about this a million times since Daniel had walked out of his apartment three days ago. No matter what he did, or how he tried to justify it, he couldn't get rid of this realization: he liked Kurt. "Trust me, I wish things were different. Daniel was pretty perfect for me in many ways… but he's just… not what I want. And this might be completely illogical, but Kurt…"

"Is a kid," Sam finished for him.

Blaine was annoyed now. "Okay, stop that. Don't try to make me sound like a pervert. You know that's not who I am."

"I'm just trying to understand," Sam replied, rubbing a hand down his face.

"No, you're trying to convince me of all the reasons you think I'm wrong," Blaine retorted, looking at him meaningfully. "I've thought of all of them already, Sam. But Kurt is… well, we kind of fit together, you know? How else can you explain the way I was able to open up to him and talk about Cooper, when I couldn't do it even with you? And everything seems so much easier, so much nicer when he's around. He makes everything so clear and bright around me."

Sam groaned. "God, you sound like a fool with a crush. This can't be happening. You're going to get fired."

"I'm _not_ going to get fired," Blaine groaned back. Sam could be so irritating sometimes. "It's not like I'm going to make out with him at work. I don't even know if he might reciprocate. I just… I needed to talk to someone about it, and I would truly appreciate it if you could act as my best friend and let me vent and get this off my chest."

Sam watched him for a few seconds and finally deflated. "I know. I'm sorry. You know I worry."

"You always do," Blaine smiled softly at him. "Now eat your pizza."

Sam reached for his slice again. "Okay. I'm ready. Tell me all about it."

So Blaine did. He told him about how lovely it was to spend time with Kurt, who it seemed like they never run out of things to talk about. He told him about how Kurt always understood him, and how he was always able to make him feel better, to make him smile. He told him how right it felt whenever Kurt held him, how it made him feel like nothing could ever hurt him if Kurt kept holding him long enough. He told him how much he loved seeing him with Max… and then told him about the kiss.

That damn kiss.

How hadn't Blaine realized then, when their lips touched for the first time? Shouldn't he have known?

Sam dropped the crust of his pizza back into the box, and licked his fingers clean despite knowing how much Blaine hated that. "Yup. Sounds like you're fucked, man."

Blaine threw him a napkin. "You're not a caveman, Sam. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the napkin. "Okay, listen. I really, really want to talk you out of this insanity. I really do… but some of the things you just described… dude, I felt that. I feel that, with Mercedes. I can't see this working out, and I really don't want to see you get in trouble… but I also can't tell you not to feel the way you feel, because I know it's going to be useless."

"I don't even know if I'm going to tell Kurt. That kiss probably meant nothing to him…" Blaine tried to sound dismissive, like he didn't care.

"Whatever you decide, regardless of what I think, I've got your back. You deserve to be happy, Blaine," Sam shrugged. "I wish you'd chosen someone a little less complicated, but it's not up to me. It's not even up to you. These things just happen. Just… do me a favor? If you think one of you is going to get in trouble, or is going to get hurt, do the smart thing, okay?"

Blaine nodded, though he had no idea what the smart thing was anymore.

* * *

After days without a single message or phone call, Blaine's cell vibrated with an incoming call on Sunday night. He swore his heart skipped a beat when he saw the caller ID announced it was Kurt calling.

"Hello?" He said, and was immediately shocked when the voice on the other end did not belong to Kurt.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson? This is Rachel Berry, I'm Kurt's roommate and best friend."

Blaine blinked in confusion for a moment. "Oh, hi Rachel. Is Kurt okay?"

Before he could begin panicking, Rachel reassured him: "He's fine! Just caught a really nasty flu on the flight back home. He's currently in bed with a high fever, and barely wakes up to cough or sneeze. I just wanted to let you know he won't make it to work tomorrow. He doesn't want to pass whatever virus he has to Max."

"That's terrible," Blaine replied sincerely. "Can you tell him I hope he feels better soon? I'll text him tomorrow to know how he's doing."

Rachel said goodbye, and Blaine stared at his phone long after the call had ended, telling himself there was no reason to be so disappointed.

* * *

Luckily, Sam could stay with Max on Monday when Blaine had to go back to work. During his lunch break, he texted Kurt: _Hey you. Hope you're feeling better!_

He was walking back to his office with a sandwich in a paper bag when his phone vibrated with a reply: _Hi. Thanks. Still with a fever. The guy sitting next to me on the plane had the plague or something._

Blaine texted him a sad face: _That sucks. So I guess we won't be seeing you tomorrow either?_

He was already halfway through his sandwich when Kurt answered: _It doesn't look like it, no._

When he got home later that day, and showed Sam the text messages, Sam frowned as he bounced Max on his knee.

"Do you think he's avoiding you? You know, after that kiss," he said.

Blaine hadn't thought about it, but now it was the only thing he could think about.

* * *

On Tuesday, Blaine had to bring Max to work. He and Sam took turns watching him in their offices, and Max was clearly unhappy with being passed around like that. He threw a huge tantrum at Blaine's desk and spilled coffee all over the papers he was supposed to be grading.

Blaine rushed to clean up the mess, and then called Kurt.

Rachel picked up the phone. "Oh hi, Mr. Anderson! He just fell asleep. He was up all night coughing. Can I take a message?"

Blaine closed his eyes, trying to hold back the frustration. "I was just wondering how he was feeling. But I guess he's not doing much better, huh?"

"No," Rachel said quietly. "I think he might need another day to sleep it off."

Blaine wondered if it was possible that Sam was right, after all. What if Kurt was avoiding him? What if he couldn't face Blaine after what had happened at his father's kitchen? What if he was trying to find a way to quit so he would never have to see Blaine again?

He looked at Max as he crossed his office and turned the waste basket upside down.

He didn't know what he would without Kurt.

* * *

His call was answered once again by Rachel on Wednesday afternoon. Blaine left work, but instead of walking towards his apartment, he got into the subway. It had taken a little flirting with Claudia from the Admissions department, but he now had Kurt's address scribbled in a piece of paper, safe in his pocket.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he got there. Mostly, he wanted to know if Kurt truly was avoiding him. If Kurt wasn't comfortable around him anymore, Blaine needed to know. If Max needed a new nanny, he needed to know.

If that kiss had ruined everything, he needed to know.

Kurt lived in an area of Bushwick that seemed to be filled mostly with factories. As Blaine walked away from the subway station, most people walked towards it, ready to head home at the end of their day. After a few blocks, he arrived at an old brick building that looked like an abandoned factory more than a residential building. He wondered if he had the right address.

Just as he stood by the door in doubt, the front door opened and a girl walked out, holding her purse tight against her chest. She was petite, with long brunette hair, and startled when she almost bumped into Blaine at the doorway. "Oh!"

"I'm sorry," Blaine apologized, taking a step back to give her some room.

"Mr. Anderson!" She exclaimed, with a smile. She seemed confused. "What a surprise."

"Oh, you must be Rachel," he said, and offered his hand to her. "It's nice to meet you at last."

"Likewise," she replied with a huge smile.

"I'm terribly sorry for just dropping by unannounced," he said softly. "I was wondering if I could see Kurt for a moment."

There was something slightly mischievous about her grin. "Of course. I would walk you to our apartment, but I'm running a little late. You can go right ahead. It's the loft on the top floor."

"Thank you so much," Blaine said, and with a little wave, Rachel was gone.

Blaine walked up the stairs to the top floor. There was a sliding door, the only one in the hallway, so he knocked on it. He heard footsteps and a muffle voice coming from the other side.

"Rachel, if you forgot your keys again, I swear I will…" Kurt was saying as he slid the door open, but he stopped when he realized it wasn't Rachel standing in front of him. "Blaine…"

Blaine felt suddenly nervous. He looked at Kurt for a moment, as he tried to come up with something to say. He was wearing pajamas, the same ones he had worn in Ohio a few days ago, that night, in that kitchen. His hair wasn't styled and his nose was slightly red. He looked exhausted. He looked sick.

Blaine sighed quietly in relief. "You really _are_ sick."

Kurt blinked at him in confusion. "Uhm. Yes?" He moved aside to let Blaine into the loft. "Didn't Rachel tell you? She promised she'd take care of it."

The loft was huge. Blaine's apartment could have almost fit twice inside it. He guessed the decoration was all Kurt: he could see his touch and his taste in every little detail. Blaine turned to face him as Kurt closed the door. "She did. I'm sorry for coming by, I just… I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"That's really sweet," Kurt said with a little smile, before looking away and coughing loudly into his elbow. "I'm sorry I didn't text or call again. I've mostly slept for the past three days. This is the first time I'm awake for more than two hours."

"Don't worry about it," Blaine reassured him. He swayed a bit on his heels. Now that he was here and could see Kurt hadn't been lying to him, he felt stupid.

"Would you like some tea? I was about to make some," Kurt offered, walking towards the kitchen.

Blaine followed him. "Sure. But shouldn't you be in bed? I can make it and bring it to you."

"God, no," Kurt groaned. "I can't stay in bed a minute longer. I'm going crazy. I was actually working on a few projects. I haven't been able to find time for them lately."

Blaine looked at the mess of fabrics and the sewing machine on the kitchen table. He picked up a small button up. The fabric had tiny foxes all over it, against a light blue background. He frowned. "Do we need to talk about your diet? Because you will never fit into this shirt."

Kurt rolled his eyes at him as if he was insane. "Of course not. That's not for me. It's for Max."

Blaine felt as if he had been suddenly punched in the stomach by all the feelings he had been trying to keep at bay for the past few days. They came all at once. They were overwhelming.

"I've had a million ideas for cute outfits for him, but I never have time to work on them," Kurt explained, not noticing how quiet Blaine was. "I've been doodling designs for months. Being sick is actually a blessing, if you think about it. I made three shirts and I have an idea for a cute little jacket that's to die for. I can't wait to see him wear it…" He turned to Blaine, who was still holding the shirt up in front of him, watching it as if it was something incredibly precious. "What? You don't like it?"

"I love it," Blaine muttered in a soft, low voice, his eyes fixed on Kurt's. "Kurt, you are…"

But Kurt had a coughing fit, so Blaine was silenced abruptly. It looked like a painful cough, and Kurt leaned against the kitchen counter to support himself. Blaine approached him, leaving the shirt carefully on the table, and rubbed his back comfortingly.

"That sounds painful. Are you taking any meds?" Blaine asked, concerned.

"Yeah, Rachel picked up a few things for me," Kurt said, dismissively. He suddenly looked a lot more exhausted. "How's Max? Who's staying with him?"

Blaine couldn't find in himself the strength to move away, so he stood next to Kurt, feeling the heat radiating from him. "Sam's helping me out. I took him with me to work yesterday."

Kurt ran a hand down his tired face. "I'm sorry. I should be…"

"It's fine, Kurt," Blaine said, reaching for his hand and giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. "You just need to get better."

The water began to boil, so Kurt moved towards the stove, sliding his hand away from Blaine's, who suddenly only felt the cold of the counter top against his palm.

Kurt poured two mugs, and then began coughing again so violently that he actually startled Blaine.

"Okay, that's it. You need to be in bed," Blaine said sternly. "Come on, Kurt. You'll never get better if you don't rest."

Kurt protested all the way to his bedroom, but complied. His room, hidden behind a large curtain, was quite tidied, considering he'd been sick for the past few days. His bed, however, was a nest of blankets, which Kurt slid into with a tiny sigh of comfort.

Blaine placed Kurt's tea on the bedside table. "Drink up, you need all the fluids you can get."

Kurt took a sip of tea. "I wish I could kill the bastard who gave me the plague."

Blaine smiled. "That's not going to help you get better now."

"No, but he still deserves it," Kurt groaned, and laid back against the pillows. He truly looked exhausted. "I've done nothing but sleep. I don't want to sleep again."

"But you need it," Blaine shrugged.

Kurt blinked up at him feverishly, as if he was realizing for the first time that Blaine was in his apartment. "Blaine, why… why did you come here?"

Blaine bit his lip, considering whether honesty was the best alternative. "I was worried that you weren't actually sick. I thought you might be avoiding me, or that you didn't want to work with us anymore, and just didn't know how to tell me."

Kurt frowned. "Are you crazy? I love that job. I love Max. Why would I…?"

"Because of the kiss," Blaine said, before he could lose his courage. "I was afraid you might be too uncomfortable around me after what happened, and I… I just needed to come and know. I needed to see you."

Kurt's cheeks were flushed. It could have been because of the fever, but Blaine would have sworn the blush had appeared when he mentioned the kiss. "Why should I be uncomfortable around you? Shouldn't you be the one feeling uncomfortable? _I_ kissed _you_ , after all."

Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, his cup of tea hot between his hands, but somehow it helped him feel steadier. "Kurt, in case you didn't notice, I kissed you back."

Kurt's lips parted as if he'd intended to let out a gasp, but no sound came out of him. He looked in awe. "You… you did," he mumbled, as if he'd just realized that. "You kissed me back."

"Yeah," Blaine said helplessly.

"But you said it didn't mean anything," Kurt said, looking more and more confused every second.

Blaine shrugged, looking away from Kurt, because his big blue eyes distracted him. "Uhm. We probably shouldn't talk about this now… you need to rest. I should go and let you sleep."

Before he could stand up, however, Kurt's hand grabbed his arm. "No, I… I don't want to sleep. I want to talk about it."

"Kurt…" Blaine glanced at him, unsure. "You do realize this conversation could…? Well, it could change everything."

"Why?" Kurt asked, and the eagerness on his face was so clear that Blaine couldn't stop staring at him.

Blaine instead asked a question of his own: "Did you really only kiss me because you were upset?"

Kurt sucked in a breath, and the tension was almost tangible between them. It seemed it took forever before he finally replied, with a shaky: "No."

There was something slightly defeated and shockingly sincere about the way Kurt said that simple word, like he couldn't hold it back anymore, like it had been a terrible weight keeping the truth from Blaine. Like he was afraid that little syllable was going to tear apart everything he had worked so hard to carefully build.

Blaine licked his lips, trying to gain some time to steady his crazy-beating heart. "Kurt…"

"Look, it's fine," Kurt said, his voice a little rough from the cough. "I can be professional. I can pretend it never happened. You don't have to worry about it. I won't tell anyone. I understand. I'm not stupid. Plus, Daniel…"

"… broke up with me," Blaine interrupted, before Kurt could talk himself into a panic.

Kurt gaped at him for a moment, looking more and more confused. "What?"

"Daniel broke up with me," Blaine said calmly. He was a little surprised because he wasn't sad in the slightest about how that relationship had failed. He'd had a nice time with Daniel, but some part of him, deep down inside, always knew he wasn't the one. "I think he could see a lot of things that I was too blind to see for myself."

Kurt frowned. "What do you mean?"

Blaine decided the best way to do this was to be as honest as Kurt had been with him. He could tell it had been hard for Kurt to tell him the truth. It was only fair that Blaine told him the real reason Daniel had left. "I have feelings for you."

It was as if time had stopped. They were looking at each other, completely frozen but suddenly very aware of how little space there was between them, how easy it would be for them to reach out and grab the other by the hand. How easy it would be for their lips to meet again.

"Oh," Kurt sighed, the sound escaping him almost without him noticing. His fingers twitched on the mattress, eager to touch Blaine. But there was doubt in his face, like he couldn't allow himself to simply believe. "Are you…?"

"Don't ask me if I'm sure," Blaine said, sitting on the bed again, grabbing Kurt's hand between his own. He needed to make him understand. "It might have taken me a while to figure it out… but now I just can't believe I didn't see it earlier."

"Blaine…" Kurt whispered, eyes wide. "Please, don't play with me…"

Blaine smiled at him and leaned closer to cup his cheek in his hand gently. "I'm not playing, Kurt."

Kurt's free hand tangled in Blaine's shirt, unconsciously pulling him closer. Their foreheads knocked together, and Kurt let his eyes slip close. "You're not?"

"I'm not," Blaine murmured, and moved in, ready to capture Kurt's mouth with his, at last.

But Kurt reacted at the last possible second, and the hand in Blaine's shirt pushed at his chest to get some space. "Wait. Wait. No."

Blaine felt like his brain had lost speed so his heart could race harder and harder. He blinked, his eyes locked on Kurt's lips, and tried to understand. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to get you sick," Kurt said miserably, like he couldn't believe he was actually stopping this.

Blaine smiled and tilted his head to the side, pressing a sweet, quick kiss to Kurt's cheek. "It's okay. We can wait. We'll wait for the right time. The perfect moment."

Kurt groaned. "I'm actually scared I'm just hallucinating because of the fever."

Blaine chuckled, and stood up, which only made Kurt groan again. "Come on. Lay down. You need to be resting." He tucked Kurt in, like he did sometimes with Max at night. "You need to get better so I can convince you this is not a hallucination."

Kurt smiled tiredly at him. "Are you leaving?"

"I have to," Blaine said sadly. "I didn't tell Sam I was coming here, so he must be waiting for me. And I haven't seen Max much today."

"Give him a kiss from me, okay?" Kurt asked, as he fought to keep his eyes open.

"I will," Blaine assured him, and kissed his forehead, after brushing a strand of hair back from it. Now that he was here, that he could see his touch was welcomed, it was so, so hard to leave. "Text me when you wake up? And if you need anything…"

"Uh huh," Kurt nodded. He was asleep two seconds later.

Blaine picked up the forgotten cups of tea and took them into the kitchen. He made sure Kurt had water on the bedside table, and that his phone was charged. He placed a box of tissues closer to him on the opposite side of the bed, and then, with one last glance at Kurt buried in his bed and looking impossibly miserable and elated at the same time, Blaine left the apartment.

As he walked back to the subway station, texting Sam to let him know he was alive and not to call the police (he knew how much his best friend tended to overreact), he could feel his heart was lighter.

It was wonderful how the most unexpected thing could make one feel complete.


	19. Chapter 19

If it hadn't been for Rachel confirming she had indeed opened the door for Blaine before leaving for the theatre, and for the text messages he and Blaine exchanged later, Kurt would have definitely thought it had all been a fever dream.

But it had been real.

A part of him told him it couldn't be. It was too good to be true. These things didn't happen to him. Kurt was used to unrequited love, to pinning in silence for guys he could never have, to finding the left side of the bed always empty and cold. It wasn't that he had never had a relationship before, or that men didn't find him attractive: it had to do with the fact that Kurt's heart usually wanted exactly what it couldn't have.

And now Blaine had told him that what he wanted, what he had lied awake at night wishing for with a broken heart, wasn't impossible.

_I have feelings for you._

Five little words, and they had changed Kurt's world.

By Friday he was feeling a lot better, though he was still coughing a bit. He texted Blaine to let him know, insisting he was okay enough to go to work, but Blaine told him to just take one more day off, get enough rest, get rid of that cough and come back on Monday. Deep down inside, Kurt was embarrassed to admit that he panicked a little: what if Blaine regretted what he had said? What if he didn't want to see Kurt yet because he didn't know how to take it all back?

As if he had known that Kurt was freaking out, Blaine sent one more text message: _I've never looked forward to Monday more in my entire life._

Kurt was glad Rachel was in class, because he blushed so hard he was shocked his face didn't burst in flames.

So after a weekend slowly trying to return to the land of the living, Kurt was ready to go back to normal on Monday morning. He put a little more attention to the way he looked before he left the apartment, hating the way his cheeks seemed a little sunken after being sick for a week. He had no idea what was going to happen, but whatever it was, he was eager to find out.

Spring was fully in the air now: the sky was clear, there was a gentle breeze, and the sun was shining like a handful of diamonds. Kurt walked towards the subway, his heart filled with the kind of hope and anticipation it hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

When he got off the elevator on Blaine's floor, he felt his palms were a little sweaty. He took a moment to make sure his hair was still in place, and then knocked the door.

It only took Blaine a few seconds to get to it, and there was a bright smile on his face. "Hey! You're alive!"

Kurt chuckled, as he went inside. "Yup. The flu didn't beat me, in the end."

Before they could say anything else, there was a loud shriek, and Max came into the room quickly, his little arms already extended towards Kurt, clearly excited he was back.

"Oh, my little munchkin! Did you miss me?" Kurt asked, bending to pick him up, hugging him close. Max threw his arms around Kurt's neck and held on tight. "I think he did!"

"Of course he did," Blaine said, as he went into the kitchen. "He's been moody all week."

"That's because I'm his favorite," Kurt grinned widely at him. The smell of coffee hit his nostrils as soon as he walked into the kitchen behind Blaine. "Oh, coffee. Can I get some, please? Rachel's been giving me tea nonstop, and when I tried to get coffee instead, she said it wasn't good for my mucus." Kurt made a disgusted face, and then wondered why he was talking about mucus to the guy he was expecting to be making out with in the foreseeable future.

"I wouldn't dare to keep you away from coffee," Blaine said, already reaching for Kurt's favorite mug. "I wouldn't want to wake the dragon."

Kurt snorted out a little laugh (another highly unattractive move, Kurt, what the hell?). He kissed Max's cheek, and then accepted the cup. "That's because you're wiser than she is."

Blaine watched him, still smiling, as he sipped his coffee. After a few seconds of silence, in which they mostly stared at each other in a way that made electricity run down Kurt's spine, Blaine said: "Hi."

Kurt bit his lip. "Hi yourself."

"I'm really glad you're feeling better, and that you're back." Blaine leaned against the kitchen counter, but didn't look away.

Kurt sighed in contentment. "Me too. Being sick sucks. You miss out on so much… so many things you could be doing…" Kurt couldn't help it: his eyes shifted quickly down to Blaine's mouth, and back up again.

Blaine suppressed a laugh, glancing down at his own cup of coffee, bashfully. "So many. But you can always make up for lost time, right?"

"I sure hope so," Kurt said, a little breathlessly.

The tension seemed to crack and pop between them, and Kurt was very, very aware of the one year old boy in his arms. How appropriate would it be to throw himself at Blaine and kiss him senseless while holding his nephew at the same time?

He decided to put the boy down, just in case.

"Oh, I brought you guys something," he remembered. He opened his bag. "I finished the outfits I designed for Max! I'll have to try them on later to make sure I don't have to make any alterations but…"

Blaine grabbed the shirts and the pair of cute navy shorts and stared at them in awe. "Kurt, these are fantastic!"

"Do you really like them? I never realized how much fun it is to design kid's clothes. I have an idea for a vest that would look great on him. I just need to find the right fabric…" Kurt explained, enthusiasm written all over his face.

Blaine watched in disbelief. "You're amazing, Kurt."

Kurt blushed. "Why, thank you." Blaine held one of the button downs up to look at it, a beautiful and cheerful piece in red, with tiny polka dots in white. "Oh, that reminds me! I had some left over fabric from that one, so…" he revealed a bowtie. "I thought you two could match. You guys would look adorable."

Blaine stared at the bowtie as if he had never seen one in his entire life. As if he didn't own a million different ones already. "You… made me a bowtie."

"Yes?" Kurt frowned. "Is that okay? You don't have to wear it, if you don't…"

Blaine surged forward, and Kurt almost didn't have time to put his cup of coffee down to avoid spilling it on himself. Suddenly he was trapped between Blaine's arms, against the counter, which was digging into his back. And yet, he couldn't care less.

Blaine's eyes were wide and bright, so beautiful in the morning light. His lips were slightly parted, and Kurt wasn't entirely sure where to put his own hands, but when Blaine's arms settled lightly around his waist, he decided he was allowed to place them on Blaine's shoulders.

Oh god. They were going to kiss.

Apparently kitchens were perfect places for Kurt Hummel to be kissed halfway to insanity.

"I love it," Blaine murmured, and the warmth of his breath hit Kurt's skin, they were so close. "Thank you."

Kurt hadn't noticed the height difference before. It wasn't much, but he realized that if he bent down just a little bit, he could press his lips to Blaine's… "It's just a bowtie," he replied, feeling a little dizzy.

"It's so much more than that…" Blaine whispered, and Kurt knew, just knew, he wasn't talking about the bowtie anymore.

Kurt let his eyes fall shut in anticipation. His whole body was shaking with how much he wanted it…

He felt a quick tug on his pant leg. They both looked down, and Max was frowning at them, his little fists on their legs, clearly demanding their attention. He let out a brief unhappy noise that clearly said "What the hell? I don't see you in over a week and you just ignore me?"

Blaine chuckled weakly and pulled away so Kurt could grab Max in his arms again. They looked at each other, and the tension was still there, ready to pop at any minute.

"I guess we can keep waiting for that right time," Blaine said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, once again looking a bit bashful.

Kurt smiled into Max's soft hair. "It'll be so worth it."

* * *

It was a pity that they finally figured out what they wanted just when they were so damn _busy_.

Kurt being sick meant he had missed two group project meetings, and that he was behind on lectures. Blaine had so much work he sometimes looked like he was ready to jump off the balcony. The semester was slowly drawing towards its end, and they couldn't afford to get distracted, no matter how much they wanted to just forget the world and kiss.

On Wednesday morning, Kurt arrived on campus feeling tired and ready to march back into bed. He stopped at the cafeteria to grab a large cup of coffee, and sipped it on his way to Blaine's classroom, hoping it'd do the trick. He had stayed up late the previous night with his group from Fashion Marketing working on their project, and got home almost at midnight, only to find out Rachel needed to prepare for a dance midterm. She had been blasting the same song in the living room until three in the morning, when Kurt had thrown a pillow at her head and threatened to push her off the fire escape if he had to ask her to go to sleep one more time.

He would have been pissed about having to be up so early, if it wasn't Blaine's class he was going to. He entered the classroom, where half the students were already sitting and chatting among themselves, killing time, and took a seat on the second row, a little to the left, as he usually did. Then he proceeded to use his own arms as pillows on top of the desk, and laid his weary head on them, wondering if he could catch ten more minutes before Blaine arrived.

Kurt was annoyed at how loud his classmates could be and wishing they would just shut up for a second, when everyone went silent. He raised his head a little to see what had caused this beautiful blessing, and found Blaine entering the classroom, pushing Max's stroller before him. The entire class was staring at him in surprise.

"Good morning!" Blaine exclaimed. He parked Max's stroller next to his desk, and the boy immediately began bouncing, wanting to be free. "Before we get started, I need to apologize for bringing little Max with me. I had a babysitting issue, and didn't want to cancel class on such short notice."

Kurt wondered what had happened with Sam, who usually kept Max in his office on Wednesday mornings while Kurt was in Blaine's class. He was supposed to pick up Max there afterwards and take him home.

"However, I promise he'll behave," Blaine continued, struggling to get Max unhooked from his stroller. He then glanced at the whole classroom and shrugged. "And if he's a pain, then I'll be bringing cookies for everyone next class to make up for it."

The students cheered, causing Max to stare at them, with a mixture of distrust and curiosity in his blue eyes.

"He's so cute!" One of the girls at the back said.

"How old is he, Mr. Anderson?" One of the boys in Kurt's row asked.

"He's one," Blaine said with a little smile. "And you can't distract me with questions about him. I do know we were supposed to start with your presentations today, so…"

Max suddenly let out a loud shriek. He had just spotted Kurt, so he ran towards him, in his awkward toddler way, and Kurt had to grab him so he wouldn't knock his head with the other desks.

"Hey cutie," he said in a low voice. Max pressed his hands to Kurt's cheeks and smiled at him brightly.

Everyone looked from Kurt to Blaine, clearly confused, so Blaine cleared his throat. "Some of you may know Kurt babysits for me sometimes," he explained, which was probably the understatement of the century. "Anyway, who wants to start?"

There were a few seconds of silence, as no one wanted to volunteer, so Blaine had to pick someone. They lowered the lights so the student could show the slides he had prepared for the occasion. After he was all set up and ready to begin, Blaine began to pace the classroom, listening to him attentively, until he was next to Kurt, and sat on the empty seat next to his.

Kurt tried to stop his lips from morphing into a smile, and instead pretended to take notes, while Max sat on his lap, happy to play with the brooch on Kurt's sweater.

"Want me to grab him?" Blaine asked very quietly, so no one else could hear, while the guy at the front paused to change to his next slide. "You can't take notes like that."

"I'm fine," Kurt assured him. "He's calm right now. What happened with Sam?"

"He had a meeting with a scout and couldn't reschedule," Blaine replied, leaning a little closer so Kurt could feel the heat radiating off him. He also smelled _great_. "I couldn't think of another solution."

"Max can behave even during the most boring presentations in the history of literature, right, Max?" Kurt asked the little boy who smiled up at him in delight.

Blaine snorted. "Don't be mean. He's doing okay."

"You're not even listening to him, Blaine," Kurt retorted, rolling his eyes. "Are you going to ignore me when it's time for my presentation as well?"

"As if I could," Blaine whispered, sending a shiver down Kurt's spine.

His eyes were sparkling, and Kurt had a hard time stopping himself from moving in and pressing his lips to Blaine's. He really needed to be less desirable. "Shush it, and do your job, Mr. Anderson," he teased, and turned back to the front.

Max got bored after the second tedious presentation. Kurt took him to the back of the classroom for a little while and let him run a little there to blow off some steam, where he didn't interrupt. He could feel the stares of his fellow classmates, particularly the girl who always flirted with Blaine. He wondered what they were thinking, and if they could tell there was something more between them, something that hadn't been there a few weeks ago. Part of him couldn't care less: he was happy, for the first time in a very long time.

When Max got tired of running around, Blaine fished a few toys out of his bag and they took turns playing with him to keep him distracted. Kurt wasn't sure if it was the tension to keep Max entertained or the boredom of the presentations, but this was the longest Lit class Kurt had ever attended.

"Alright, that's all we have time for today," Blaine announced after the fourth student went back to her seat after her last slide. "Great job today, guys. We'll continue next class. Let me remind you that these presentations will be part of the final, so you all have to pay attention to what your classmates are presenting. Any questions?"

There was a general murmur but no questions, so Blaine dismissed the class and began picking up Max's toys along with his own stuff. Kurt shoved his things into his bag and walked Max back to Blaine's desk. Blaine waited until the last student had left the classroom to groan and cover his face with his hands.

"This has to be the most unprofessional thing I've ever done," he said.

"Oh please, it wasn't that bad," Kurt replied smiling encouragingly at him. "Max behaved pretty well."

"They were all judging me," Blaine protested. "I could _hear_ them judging me."

Kurt huffed. "They are all idiots anyway. You only need to put up with them for a couple more months, and then the semester will be over." He put Max back in the stroller. "Plus, I'm pretty sure they were judging _me_. Natalie has such an annoying crush on you, I'm sure she would love to be able to babysit Max."

There was a tiny little smirk on Blaine's face. "Is that jealousy I detect?"

Kurt arched an eyebrow, looking offended. "Oh honey, what's there to be jealous of? Her frizzy hair? Her outdated wardrobe? No, thanks, I'm fine."

Blaine laughed wholeheartedly, shaking his head. "You're incredible."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Kurt replied, not noticing how he was stepping closer and closer to Blaine.

"You should," Blaine said softly, and after a couple of seconds of silently glancing at each other, his eyes unavoidably shifted down to Kurt's lips. "If I wasn't afraid of getting caught and fired, I would kiss you right now."

Kurt blushed and felt warmth spreading all over him. "Now, saying _that_ is the most unprofessional thing you've ever done," he mocked him, and Blaine chuckled. Looking over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone, Kurt planted a kiss on Blaine's cheek, allowing himself to linger for a second, with his hand cupping the opposite cheek, his thumb stroking gently over his jawline. "I should probably go."

Blaine's eyes were blown wide, his lips parted in awe. "That's probably a good idea."

As Kurt walked out of the classroom pushing the stroller, feeling Blaine's eyes fixed on him, he realized how difficult it would be for them to hide this - this wonderful thing they had, whatever it was. He knew Blaine could get in trouble, and it could be so easy to get caught, with so many people coming and going constantly all over campus. But still, at this very moment, Kurt couldn't really care about any of the risks, because his heart was light and happy, and he couldn't remember when he had last felt like this.

* * *

On Thursday morning, Blaine stood by the coffee maker, watching it impatiently. Sam had been over for dinner the previous night and Blaine had gone to bed a lot later than he was used to on a week night. Sam had been upset because one of his best players broke his ankle during practice and now he couldn't play on Friday. Blaine had ordered pizza and they had parked in front of the television on the couch, where Sam was able to let out his frustration.

"Ugh, I can't even think about this anymore," he had said after a while, letting his head fall against the back of the couch. "I'm driving myself crazy. What's new with you?"

So Blaine had filled him in on what had happened with Kurt the past few days. He couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice, no matter how hard he tried, and he was sure there was a very stupid look on his face whenever he said Kurt's name. He felt like he was a sixteen year old boy talking about his first crush.

It was beautiful to feel like this again.

Sam watched him, took a sip of beer and then sighed. "You're in deep, huh?"

Blaine bit his lip, anxiously. "You still think I'm insane, don't you?"

Sam put his beer down and shook his head. "It's not that I think you're insane. I'm just worried. I know how much could be at risk if things went wrong. But I'm happy for you, if you're happy. Just… promise me to be careful."

"I will," Blaine said, rolling his eyes a little. "Kurt really is great, Sam. You don't know him as well as I do."

"He must be," Sam replied, looking right into his eyes, and his expression softened. "This is the happiest you've been in over a year. He must be really, really great."

Blaine smiled sleepily at the coffee pot as he remembered Sam's words. Yeah, Kurt really was something else…

He was startled when he heard Kurt's voice echoing from the front door. "Blaine?"

Before he had time to walk out of the kitchen, Kurt was there, looking worried and so incredibly beautiful in a green shirt that made his eyes pop. He seemed surprised to find Blaine standing in his own kitchen.

"Good morning," Blaine said.

"I knocked like ten times," Kurt said in greeting. "I thought something was wrong. Are you okay?"

"Oh. I didn't hear you, I'm sorry," Blaine smiled apologetically. He gestured towards the keys on Kurt's hand. "But like I told you a million times, I gave you those for a reason. You don't have to knock the door every morning, Kurt. Just come right in."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I just feel weird inviting myself into your home…"

Blaine suddenly didn't feel so sleepy anymore. He took a couple of steps so he could be right in front of Kurt, and grabbed his hand between his. "You're more than welcome in here, anytime."

Kurt tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. He looked down bashfully. "Hi."

"Hi," Blaine said, and chuckled. He let his eyes run down Kurt's body, and by the blush on Kurt's face, he realized it was more than welcomed. "You look very nice this morning."

"Thank you," Kurt replied, and after a second's hesitation, he raised his free hand and ran his fingers through Blaine's curls, which he still hadn't applied gel to. Blaine closed his eyes in contentment. "Would you judge me too terribly if I told you I've been wanting to do this for a very long time?"

Blaine peeked at him, biting his lower lip to avoid laughing. "Are you telling me you find my poodle hair irresistible?"

Kurt schooled his face so it was completely expressionless, and he said, very seriously: "Yes."

Laughter burst out of Blaine abruptly. He let his forehead rest on Kurt's shoulder (and oh, the height difference was actually perfect for that; he made a mental note). Kurt took the opportunity to wrap his arms around Blaine, holding him. They stayed like that for a little while, and Blaine hummed happily, letting the sweet scent of Kurt's skin fill his senses.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered.

"Mm?"

"Does this count as the perfect moment?" He asked in a shaky voice, and Blaine simply raised his head and pressed his lips to Kurt's.

It wasn't a passionate, memorable kiss. It didn't have them panting immediately, consumed by lust and heat. It was a simple, sweet kiss, a soft caress of lips. It didn't last long, just a handful of seconds, but it was enough to get their hearts racing, their bodies reacting to the closeness like ships lost in the night and suddenly finding a lighthouse to guide them safely home.

They pulled away very, very slowly. Kurt's eyes were still closed, as if he was savoring the kiss. Blaine run his thumb down his jaw, carefully tracing it, watching him like he couldn't believe he was real.

"Okay?" He asked, gently.

Kurt licked his lips and nodded minutely. "Yeah."

He opened his eyes and Blaine almost stopped breathing. They were a mixture of colors Blaine had never seen before. The blue, the green and the gray swirled together, specks of yellow appearing near the irises. Blaine could have stayed there all day, trying to understand the wonder that were Kurt's eyes.

Max seemed to be tired of being ignored. He was sitting on his high chair at the kitchen table, and threw his spoon across the room, hitting the refrigerator door. Kurt turned to him immediately, as Blaine groaned at the interruption.

"Excuse me, sir, don't you see your uncle Blaine and I are busy?" Kurt teased, heading towards him and kissing his forehead. "What did we talk about? No throwing."

Blaine picked up the spoon, and then went back to the coffee maker, unable to erase the smile from his face. "Coffee, Kurt?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Kurt grinned at him.

After pouring two cups of coffee, Blaine leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Kurt and Max for a few seconds. "You know, Sam stopped by last night for dinner. He needs a little support at the game tomorrow, because his star player got injured."

"Oh that sucks," Kurt said. "Will he be okay?"

"Yeah, but he fractured his ankle. He will need a long recovery before playing again," Blaine explained. He looked down at his mug. "Max and I are going to the game, and I was wondering if you want to go with us?"

Kurt's eyes widened a little. "Really? You want me to go with you?"

"Only if you want to," Blaine hurried to say, suddenly nervous.

"If you don't mind that I know absolutely nothing about sports, then I'm definitely in," Kurt said with a bright smile.

Despite how much they wanted to just spend the rest of the morning kissing, Blaine had to finish getting ready for work. He grabbed a piece of toast for the road because he was running late already, and leaned down to kiss Max's head goodbye, before turning to Kurt and giving him a quick peck on the lips, that felt suddenly so familiar, yet so extraordinary.

"Bye Kurt," he said softly.

Kurt couldn't hold back a new smile. "Bye Blaine."

"Bye Baine."

They both blinked at each other, confused. Then they turned to look at Max, startled.

"Did he just…?" Blaine asked, eyes so round they looked like they didn't belong on his face.

Max was playing with two plastic cars, making them crash, and not paying attention to them. Kurt shook his head very, very slowly. "No. We probably imagined it…"

"Okay," Blaine said, uncertain. Then he said again, purposefully. "Bye Kurt."

"Bye Blaine," Kurt repeated, gaze fixed on Max.

"Bye Baine," Max parroted back, not looking up from his cars.

"Oh my god!" Blaine exclaimed. "He did it! He just… he said my name!"

Kurt shushed him and kneeled on the floor to be face to face with Max. "Hey sweetie. Can you say that again? Bye bye, Uncle Blaine!"

Max looked up at him in the same delighted way he seemed to save for Kurt and Kurt alone, and mumbled: "Bye Baine."

Blaine joined him on the floor, not giving a damn about his outfit, and forgetting he was going to be late for work. "Max…"

Max planted both his hands on Blaine's cheeks and said happily: "Baine. Baine. Baine."

"That's right! That's your Uncle Blaine! You're such a smart little boy," Kurt exclaimed, excited.

"Can you say Kurt?" Blaine asked, pointing at Kurt meaningfully. "You love Kurt, don't you?"

The kid seemed confused for a moment. Then he smiled so wide he almost split his face in two. "Urt."

Kurt squealed. "He's saying my name!"

Blaine placed his hands on Kurt's shoulders and squeezed, looking like he couldn't hold back his joy. Max kicked his legs and began chanting "Baine, Urt, Baine, Urt" non-stop, as they watched in awe.

Blaine looked almost close to tears. Kurt nudged him with his shoulder, smiling at him sweetly. "Hey."

Blaine forced himself to glance away from Max. "Yeah?"

"Remember when you thought you weren't good enough for raising Max? Whenever you have doubts again, just remember you were his first word," Kurt said, softly. "Out of all the things he could have said, he said your name."

Blaine couldn't give a damn about being late. He closed the distance between them and kissed Kurt again and again and again, to the soundtrack of his nephew saying his first words.


	20. Chapter 20

It was a lovely night to be outside. Even though there was a slight breeze, they weren't cold, surrounded by so many people, by such bright lights. After quickly checking there wasn't anyone around they knew, Kurt and Blaine climbed up the stairs until they found a good spot on the bleachers, where it was a little emptier. They could see Sam down there at the field, giving last minute instructions to their team. Max began waving at him, even though it was obvious he wasn't looking at them.

"So we're the purple ones, right?" Kurt asked, leaning closer to Blaine.

Blaine chuckled. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you knew nothing about sports." He gestured between him and Max. "I thought you had figured that out from our outfits."

Both Blaine and Max were wearing purple: Blaine had a purple button down with a black bowtie, and Max a purple hoodie with a golden lion on the front. Kurt had thought they looked adorable in matching outfits, but hadn't exactly figured out it was related to the game.

"Mm, sorry, I was too busy swooning over how incredibly cute you two are to put two and two together," Kurt replied teasingly, and nudged their shoulders together. Max was sitting on Blaine's lap, glancing around with increasing interest. "I wish you'd told me, though. I'm sticking out like a sore thumb."

Kurt looked down at his red shirt, which was very stylish, of course, but also seemed to be the color of the opposing team.

"You look beautiful," Blaine assured him with a sweet smile, and then turned his eyes back towards Sam. "He, however, looks stressed as hell."

Kurt hummed in consideration, trying not to show on his face just how much it meant that Blaine had told him he looked beautiful. "He'll be fine. I'm sure the team will do alright. And if they don't… well, it's just football…"

A man who was currently walking down the stairs glared at him like he had said something completely offensive, and Kurt recoiled closer to Blaine's side.

Blaine bit his lip not to laugh. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't say that here…"

"Duly noted," Kurt murmured, and immediately got distracted when Blaine, seemingly without even thinking about it, reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers together, holding it so casually it felt like they had been doing that for years. Kurt's heart raced with his touch. "Do you always come to games to support Sam?"

"Whenever I can, yeah," Blaine answered. "Plus, I've always loved sports. Football, most of all. You really never came to a game since you started college?"

"Nope," Kurt said, letting his gaze run over the field and the bleachers, taking in everyone's excitement. "Finn was the quarterback when we were in high school. I went to all of his games, even if sometimes I brought a magazine along to keep myself entertained. My Dad tried to explain all of the rules, but I wasn't interested enough to keep track of everything. After Finn died, I just didn't have an excuse to show any interest in sports at all."

Blaine's fingers tightened around his, and there was sadness in his hazel eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that. Do you want to go home? If I'd known, I wouldn't have made you come here…"

Kurt gave him a little smile. "It's fine. They're good memories. And I'm happy to be here with you."

Blaine dropped a quick, sweet kiss on the curve of Kurt's shoulder just as the crowd cheered and the game began. In a low voice, Blaine tried to explain what was happening, except when he was practically jumping off his seat to scream. Kurt honestly didn't care what a particular play was about, but he did enjoy seeing Blaine react to the game, especially since Max seemed to find it so funny as well.

"Your Uncle Blaine's a little silly, isn't he?" He muttered to Max, who had crawled onto his lap, when Blaine stood once again to yell in frustration.

Max glanced up at him, beaming. "Baine. Urt."

For the millionth time, Kurt's heart melted, and he dropped a kiss on the top of Max's head.

After the other team scored once again, and they saw Sam throw his clipboard to the ground in despair, Blaine stood up once more, and let out a grunt. "I can't keep watching. I'm gonna go get us something to drink."

Kurt tried to hide how amused he was. He couldn't believe how seriously people took something as trivial as a football game. "Sure. Do you want me to come with you?"

"Don't worry. Just stay here with Max and I'll be right back," Blaine said, and leaned in for a quick kiss.

Kurt was glad Blaine left right then, because in a matter of two minutes, the other team scored again. It looked like NYU wouldn't be able to reach them, now, and the crowd was getting more and more upset.

Blaine came back with two big sodas, popcorn and hot dogs. Kurt raised his eyebrows at him, who shrugged and said: "I'm a stress-eater."

The good thing about NYU's current hopeless situation was that Blaine didn't seem interested in the game anymore. He sat a little sideways, so he could face Kurt, and placed the food on the empty seat next to him. Kurt took a bite of his hot dog and held back a moan. He would never admit to anyone just how heavenly it tasted.

"So, Kurt Hummel," Blaine began, and grabbed a napkin. He used it to gently wipe a bit of mustard from Kurt's lower lip, who blushed in embarrassment. "Tell me something I don't know about you."

That took Kurt a little by surprise. He finished chewing the bite of hot dog as he tried to come up with something to say. "Okay…" He said, thoughtfully. "When I first came to New York, I actually wanted to become a huge Broadway star."

Blaine's eyes widened a bit. "Well, now I really need to hear you sing."

Kurt laughed lightly. "Maybe some other time."

"What made you change your mind?" Blaine asked, grabbing his soda.

"I think I realized there is a difference between what you can do and what you should do," Kurt said, leaning back on his seat to get more comfortable. "I love Broadway, and I love musicals, and I know I'm a good performer. But… when it came to choosing a path for my future, I had to stop and look at my options and wonder if I was choosing musical theatre for the right reasons."

"And you chose fashion," Blaine said, as the crowd around them screamed again, but they didn't pay any attention.

"Yeah." Kurt put down his hot dog and accepted a soda from Blaine. "Sometimes I look at Rachel and I know I made the right decision. I love Broadway and I could watch musicals every single day, but I think getting on a stage was not the right thing for me, in the end. But when I think about designing and making clothes for the rest of my life, of having my own label, of working for a fashion magazine… I can picture it. That's what I want, you know. My true passion."

"I can tell," Blaine said, with a soft smile on his face. "Your eyes sparkle when you talk about it."

Kurt bit his lip. "I think you're flirting with me, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine snorted. "Of course I am," he said rolling his eyes.

When everyone around them started roaring, they looked away from each other for a moment. It was half-time, and the crowd was showing their discontent at the current scores. It looked like NYU wouldn't be recovering anytime soon.

"Okay, it's your turn," Kurt said, turning back to Blaine. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Alright, let me think…" Blaine mumbled, as he took his last bite of hot dog.

But before he could think of something, Kurt's phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He checked the caller ID, and when he saw it was his father calling, he looked at Blaine apologetically: "It's Dad. I have to take this."

"Sure, go ahead," Blaine said immediately, and grabbed Max so Kurt could stand up.

He moved away, trying to get some distance between him and the loud crowd, as he accepted the call. "Hey Dad."

"Hi, kiddo. Is this a bad time? Where are you? It's noisy," Burt said on the other end.

"Oh, I'm at a football game at school," Kurt replied. "How are you?"

Burt sounded surprised. "You're at a football game?"

Kurt sighed. "Yes, Dad. It's not like it's the first time!"

"I know, but it's been years, Kurt," Burt retorted. "And you never enjoyed them, back then."

"Well, Blaine's friend is the coach, and he needed some moral support, so Blaine asked me to come, and I did," Kurt said, realizing he was talking a little more quickly than usual.

"Oh, I see," Burt said teasingly. "Blaine invited you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kurt asked, frowning. When his father remained silent, Kurt gave up. "Okay. Fine. You win."

"I win?" Burt repeated, expectantly.

"Look, I… I have no idea what's going on. We haven't talked about this that much, we are just… seeing where things go, I guess? But I'm happy, Dad. I'm so happy." Kurt looked over his shoulder to where Blaine was sitting with Max, and his heart filled with so much love and so much joy he had no idea what to do. "He's wonderful, and I..."

"Kurt," Burt interrupted, and his voice was warm. "I'm happy for you, kiddo."

"This is completely insane," Kurt said, laughing even though he kind of felt like crying. "He's my boss, and my professor, and this is still the most comfortable, natural and beautiful thing I have ever felt."

"I'm not saying the circumstances aren't a bit odd," Burt said honestly. "What I'm saying is that it doesn't matter, if it's so special, and if he makes you feel so happy."

There was something though every time Blaine looked into his eyes, whenever he touched him, or when he smiled at him. He knew it was crazy to say it out loud so soon, when nothing was yet certain, but Kurt knew that his father wouldn't judge him. He knew he would understand.

"I think he's…" Kurt swallowed, the emotion drowning him. "I think he's the one, Dad."

He could hear his father smiling through the phone.

"Then don't let him go, kiddo."

* * *

Sam was sitting by himself on the bench long after the game was over, long after the crowd had walked out of the stadium complaining about the result. He looked tired and unhappy, and Blaine felt bad for his friend. For some people, like Kurt, this was just a sport. For Sam, it was a tragedy.

"Hey," Blaine said, to get his attention.

Sam looked up. His eyes went from Blaine to Kurt, who was holding a sleepy Max in his arms. "Hi guys. Thanks for coming to this fiasco."

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad," Blaine lied. "It's just one game. There's still time until the championship is over."

"I know, but we haven't had a game this bad in years," Sam said, frustration clear in his voice. "It'll be difficult to raise the morale in the team after this."

"Well, if anyone can do it, it's you," Blaine said, patting his friend on the back comfortingly. "Hey, Kurt and I were wondering if you'd like to get a drink with us, or something?"

Sam once again glanced between them, as if trying to figure something out. Finally, he said: "So it's happening, huh? I'm happy for you guys, but please don't screw this up."

Kurt shifted on his feet uncomfortably, not knowing how to reply to that.

"Not our intention, I promise," Blaine said softly. "What do you say about that drink? It's on me, come on."

"Thanks, but can I get a raincheck?" Sam muttered, looking at his friend apologetically. "Mercedes just texted me that she's done with work, so she'll meet me at my place."

"She'll offer a much better comfort than we possibly can, I'm sure," Blaine teased, and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I'll see you on Monday."

"Thanks, man. It was nice seeing you again, Kurt," Sam said with a little smile.

"You too," Kurt waved awkwardly. "I'll see you on Wednesday."

Even though it was a nice night for a walk, they took a cab back to Blaine's apartment because they hadn't brought the stroller and Max was getting too heavy. They were silent most of the cab ride home, and Kurt only asked the question that had been in his mind when they were in the elevator in Blaine's building.

"Sam doesn't like me all that much, does he?"

Blaine frowned as he fished his keys out of his bag. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because I can tell?" Kurt followed him out of the elevator and down the corridor to Blaine's front door. They were speaking in a low voice as not to wake up Max. "He's always been nice, but in that way that makes it obvious he's putting distance between us. At first I thought it was because he's a professor and I'm a student, but I have the feeling it's something else."

The apartment was dark when they walked inside, so Blaine reached for the light switch, and then gestured for Kurt to go with him into Max's bedroom. "I think he likes you just fine. It's not that."

Kurt placed Max carefully into his crib to make sure he wouldn't wake up. "Then what is it?"

Blaine leaned into the crib to remove Max's shoes. It would have been better to put him into his pajamas, but Blaine didn't want to risk waking him. "Well, you heard what he said. He doesn't want us to screw up. He's just scared things will backfire and one of us will get hurt."

Kurt watched attentively. "He thinks you're the one who's going to get hurt," he guessed.

"Yup," Blaine confirmed. "He doesn't want me to get my heart broken. And he's also worried I'll get fired."

Once Max was settled, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and they walked out of the room. Kurt didn't say anything for a moment, as Blaine's last words seemed to echo in his head over and over again.

"Would you like some coffee?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded absently and went with him into the kitchen. Blaine busied himself with the coffee, and Kurt reached for the mugs on the cupboard, before leaning against the counter. "Are _you_ worried?"

"Mm?" Blaine hummed absently, as he grabbed the creamer from the fridge.

"About those things. About getting fired," Kurt said.

Blaine turned to him, placed his arms on either side of Kurt to trap him against the counter, and looked right into his eyes. "I'm not," he said earnestly.

Kurt closed his eyes as Blaine's lips pressed against his, and he felt a little better.

They went into the living room when their coffee was ready, and sat together on the couch, keeping close. It was like they couldn't get enough of each other, like they constantly needed to be touching to make up for lost time. It was simple things: Blaine brushing a strand of hair off Kurt's face, Kurt trailing his fingertips down Blaine's arm, Blaine's hand on Kurt's leg as support when he leaned towards the coffee table, Kurt's forehead on Blaine's shoulder as he laughed.

That's how they were when they suddenly fell silent. Kurt's laughter died very, very slowly, and he realized he could smell Blaine and only Blaine like this, so close. Blaine's arms were suddenly around him, rubbing his back and pulling him a little closer, as if he had also noticed the abrupt shift in the air, the way the tension crackled between them, filled with electricity.

Kurt placed a hand on Blaine's chest, and could feel just how fast his heart was beating. "You never got to tell me something I don't know about you."

Blaine put his own hand on top of Kurt's, tangling their fingers together. "You really want to know?"

"Yes," Kurt breathed out.

Blaine looked at him, hazel eyes fixed on his own _bluegreygreen_ ones. "I don't think I've ever felt like this before."

It seemed to take a couple of seconds for Kurt to process those words. Then his breath stuttered on the way out, shaky and unsteady, and his hand tightened in Blaine's. There was such sweet disbelief in his gaze, that it broke Blaine's heart a little. He couldn't be the first man to have his entire world brightened, shaken, changed by Kurt Hummel.

There wasn't a good enough verbal response. Kurt didn't think there were words that could explain exactly how he felt right now. No matter what he said, he wouldn't be able to tell Blaine how his heart seemed to be ready to leap out of his chest and right into his hands. It was Blaine's now. And he didn't want it back.

So Kurt did the next best thing: he surged forward, caught Blaine's face between his hands and kissed him.

They hadn't experienced a kiss like this before. The only one that had come close had been the first one, back in Ohio, tinged with uncertainty, fear and sadness. But this one was the opposite, even if it shared passion: there was no fear, no sadness. It definitely had no uncertainty. This time, they both knew just how much they wanted it.

Blaine parted his lips immediately, welcoming Kurt's tongue into his mouth. It was the most playful little touch, barely there and soon gone, but Blaine tried to chase it, encouraged it, craved it. Kurt shyly pushed for a little more, gave him what he asked for, let himself get drowned in the sweet scent of Blaine all around him.

The apartment was filled only with the sound of their increasingly panting breaths. Kurt threw his arms around Blaine's shoulders to bring him even closer, and Blaine wrapped his around Kurt's waist, his fingers digging into his sides, as if he couldn't get enough, as if even an inch of distance was too much to bear.

Kurt's lungs felt tight with the lack of air, but the idea of not feeling Blaine's lips on his for even a second was almost unbearable right then. Blaine seemed to be having similar thoughts, because he only turned enough on the couch so they could properly face each other, and pulled Kurt closer, so their chests were pressed together.

Kurt had never experienced this kind of need before. He had never felt that kissing was much more important than breathing. But he had never known someone like Blaine, who made his heart thump dangerously against his ribcage, who made him dizzy by just looking into his eyes.

Slowly, almost not aware of it, they began sliding down on the couch, until Kurt was on top of Blaine. Blaine's hands settled on the small of Kurt's back, pushing with eager fingers, and Kurt framed Blaine's face with his forearms, hands playing with the increasingly loose curls, as he finally realized that there was so much more he wanted to kiss, besides Blaine's perfectly plump lips.

His mouth started to trail a path alongside Blaine's jaw line. His lips were raw from all the kissing, and the growing stubble on Blaine's face scratched them, sending a shiver down his spine. Blaine let out a little sound of pleasure, and tilted his head back towards the armrest, revealing his neck, which Kurt had no problem paying attention to. He began kissing it, and found a perfect spot right where it met his breastbone, where Blaine didn't only smell so overwhelmingly good, but he also reacted so beautifully, moaning in a way that pulled at Kurt's body like they were magnets.

There was not an inch of space between them now. They were glued together head to toe, and their hips collided heavily together with the weight of their arousal.

Blaine hissed so loudly he made Kurt stop kissing him.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, feeling like his brain was filled with fog.

Blaine blinked up at the ceiling, still panting harshly. "I think… I… we might need to stop now."

Kurt studied his eyes. They had never looked so golden before. "Are you okay?"

"I'm _too_ okay, Kurt," Blaine replied, lifting his eyebrow in an ironic kind of way. Then he licked his lips, and Kurt couldn't look away. "I don't want us to do something you could regret later…"

Kurt would have felt very touched for Blaine's concern about his feelings, if he hadn't felt so damn aroused. "But you don't want to stop?"

"God, no," Blaine practically moaned. "But I…"

His words were cut off by a real, long moan when Kurt thrust against him. It was almost too much, with the tightness of their jeans and the heat that surrounded them, suffocating them.

"I don't want to stop either," Kurt whispered.

The electricity that had been crackling between them seemed to reach a breaking point. Suddenly everything was brighter: the light of the lamp on the small table next to the couch, the lights of New York City that came through the window, their eyes as they stared at each other, and the pleasure, as it coursed through them, unstoppable.

Without looking away, they began to move. Blaine met every shift of Kurt's hips with his own, feeling the hardness of Kurt's erection against his. He felt like a teenager again, so embarrassingly close to the edge already.

They weren't kissing anymore. For some reason, it was much more important to keep their eyes on each other, as if they were testing the boundaries, looking for a sign. Their breathing began ragged, difficult, and Blaine was mesmerized by the way Kurt looked right now, almost as if the pleasure was painful, like it was so intense he could hardly bear it.

Blaine realized there were only two ways this could end: they could keep dry humping on the couch like kids trying not to get caught by their parents after school, or Blaine could stop being scared.

He cupped Kurt's cheek in his hand. His skin was so hot it nearly burned him. "Hey."

"What?" Kurt mumbled, as his pace became erratic. He was close too.

Blaine used his other hand to still Kurt's hips, though he kept them pressed against his. He still didn't want even an inch of air getting between them. "Are you sure you don't want to stop?"

Kurt swallowed and licked his lips. There was certainty in his blue eyes. "I don't ever want to stop."

Blaine felt himself trying to hold back a smile. His thumb brushed Kurt's mouth. His lips were so pink, they seemed almost raw. Blaine took a deep breath, and said: "Then why don't we… I… do you want to go to my bedroom?"

Kurt could have sworn his heartbeat was so amazingly loud that it echoed through the apartment. It didn't take him longer than that to reply. He knew what he wanted. "Yes."

They didn't rush or immediately tear their clothes apart as they went to the bedroom. The way they moved was nearly solemn, like they couldn't stain what was about to happen in any way. But they didn't untangle, because feeling the other close was indescribably important. So they wrapped each other in their arms, and Kurt closed his eyes and kissed Blaine again, letting himself be guided blindly.

He had never been in Blaine's room before. The closest he had been was the doorway, where he had stood to tell Blaine something, or to look inside to check Max wasn't in there. For a long time, it had felt like a visual boundary, something Kurt wasn't allowed to cross. Other men could cross it, like Daniel had, but Kurt didn't mean that to Blaine, even if Kurt was falling more and more in love with him.

But now… now Blaine was pulling him in, gently so, and Kurt could almost hear the boundary shatter. It fell apart like the Berlin Wall, a division that was never meant to be there in the first place. Because somehow, and Kurt still couldn't believe he was so lucky, they belonged together.

They didn't bother turning a light on. It was enough with the glow of the city out the window, and the light from the hallway. Kurt could see and feel Blaine's fingers shaking as he began to unbutton Kurt's shirt, torturously slow, and Kurt wasn't sure if it was because he was giving him time to step back if he changed his mind, or if he wanted to savor every little button and every bit of skin he revealed.

When Blaine's lips began tracing his chest as he worked on his shirt, Kurt realized, with heated pleasure, that it was the latter.

Once his shirt was on the floor, Blaine's hands were everywhere. He touched his skin so reverently that it made Kurt shake. But as much as he loved how it felt, he also wanted to be able to touch Blaine the same way, so he reached for the buttons on his shirt. Blaine's chest was compact but muscled, and so delightful that Kurt didn't know where to start. He kissed his collarbone eagerly, as his hands moved down Blaine's now naked chest, thumbs catching at his nipples and making Blaine let out a sound that was nearly sinful.

Blaine grabbed Kurt's wrist to stop him, and when Kurt looked at him, he breathed out: "What do you want?"

Kurt swallowed heavily again, the words and the want almost choking him. "You," Kurt said simply, and by the fire in Blaine's golden eyes, it looked like he understood exactly what he meant. He was opening his mouth to speak, but Kurt covered it with his, and murmured, ardently: "Don't ask me if I'm sure. I've never wanted anything like I want to feel you."

Blaine's hold tightened for a moment, before it went loose. His lips brushed Kurt's when he spoke: "Get on the bed."

Kurt didn't need to hear him twice. Though stepping away from Blaine's body was the last thing he wanted, he did as he was told, and walked to the bed. He heard, more than saw, the zipper of Blaine's pants going down, as he laid on top of the covers. He reached for his own, but Blaine was already there, only in his underwear.

"Please," he whispered. "Let me."

And Kurt wouldn't have even thought of saying no.

Blaine straddled him, and despite the lack of light in the room, Kurt could still see the outline of Blaine's cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. His mouth watered. Too gently, Blaine undid the zipper and began pulling Kurt's pants down, along with his underwear. Kurt lifted himself on his elbows to help, and he watched Blaine watch him, with his mouth suddenly dry and his heart beating almost painfully fast.

"My nightstand," Blaine murmured. "Top drawer."

Kurt allowed himself to smirk. "Really? Such a cliché," he teased, but then his smirk was gone, as his lips parted so a moan could escape.

Blaine's fingers were around him, tight and perfect, stroking him maddeningly slow. He was the one smirking now. "You were saying?"

"Nothing," Kurt replied, stuttering. "Keep going."

"Top drawer, Kurt," Blaine reminded him, and then leaned down and began kissing down his chest.

Kurt knew what was coming, but he still groaned and bucked his hips up when Blaine's lips were on his cock, tracing down the length and looking like he wasn't in a hurry. His thumbs were massaging the inside of Kurt's thighs, gently working his legs open. Kurt dropped the lube and the condom on the bed next to him, and his hands immediately found their way to Blaine's head, where his fingers tangled in the curls.

Kurt's spine arched when Blaine's lube-coated finger pushed carefully at his entrance, while his mouth was still moving distractingly over his cock. He gasped and moaned as he was stretched, tilting closer to the edge with every tease of Blaine's tongue over his sensitive skin. He wanted more, but at the same time he didn't want Blaine to stop this. Everything felt so good that Kurt was sure he could reach his climax just with Blaine's feathery lips and pushing fingers.

But then the urgency began to grow inside of him, wild and hungry like an animal, and he started tugging at Blaine's hair to make him stop, mumbling nonstop: "I'm ready, I'm ready."

Blaine didn't need hear it again. He removed his fingers and reached for the condom. Kurt hooked his thumbs on Blaine's underwear, unable to stop noticing the wet spot on front where his cock was straining for release, and slid it down over Blaine' beautifully toned thighs. Once Blaine took it off entirely and threw it over his shoulder, not caring where it landed, and rolled the condom on, Kurt placed his hands on the back of Blaine's shoulders and pulled him closer, not wanting any distance between them.

Blaine grabbed the back of Kurt's knees and made him wrap his legs around his waist, as he positioned himself at the entrance. Kurt couldn't breathe again, the anticipation heavy and sweet in him.

As soon as Blaine was inside of him, something seemed to shift in the air between them. Blaine pushed all the way in, and waited, letting his forehead rest on Kurt's and panting slightly. After a few seconds of delicious yet torturous stillness, Blaine began to move his hips back and forth, and Kurt chased after him, always wanting more. They looked into each other's eyes, and there was something new there, hidden behind the pleasure and the breathless moans.

Kurt thought back to every time he had had sex before. Sometimes it had been bad, but there had been plenty of good experiences. Sometimes it had been with someone who truly mattered to him, someone who made him laugh even at his most vulnerable. Sometimes it had been sweaty and hectic, or long and relaxed. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't remember it ever feeling like _this_.

When people talked to him about sex, Kurt had never really understood what they meant when they said it had been so intense that they had never experienced something so unique before. He could understand connection, because sex was all about connection, but he had never known it could be this way.

Maybe it was because he had never loved anyone the way he loved Blaine, but nothing had ever felt this right, this bright, this overwhelmingly meaningful. It wasn't about getting off, not this time.

This – this sensation, this feeling – was what sex had been truly invented for.

Blaine leaned in and kissed him. His body was relentless, but so controlled, flowing just like the waves of pleasure travelling through each of them. Everything about him was perfect, from his skin to the way he fit right into Kurt like they were puzzle pieces.

The heat began to build, and Blaine's hips became erratic, faster, harder, reaching so deep inside of Kurt that soon he was throwing his head back on the pillow and panting to the ceiling. Blaine sneaked a hand between their sweaty bodies and wrapped his fingers around Kurt's cock, stroking it slowly but firmly, still looking into his eyes to read every sign of lust that appeared in them.

Kurt bit his lip, whining slightly, not knowing if he wanted to push into Blaine's hand or onto his cock. Everything was so much, so perfect, so intense, intense, _intense_ …

Just as Blaine changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting the sweetest of spots inside Kurt's body, Kurt came with a little cry, letting his legs fall from Blaine's waist, and planting his feet on the mattress, unconsciously lifting his hips as if he wanted to bring Blaine even deeper. As come painted his chest, Blaine moaned and let the pulses of Kurt's orgasm drive him to his own.

Without pulling out, Blaine dropped down on top of Kurt, nearly crushing him with his weight, but still Kurt welcomed it gladly. He wrapped his arms, which felt loose and heavy, around Blaine's shoulders, and searched for his mouth, kissing him long and slow, their tongues dancing together hot and wet.

Blaine could feel Kurt's heart beating out of control against his own chest. He could feel the stickiness of the come and the lube between their bodies. He sighed in contentment against Kurt's lips and cupped his face with his hand. The spark of Kurt's blue eyes was visible even in the near darkness.

"Are you alright?" He asked, because he truly didn't want to crush Kurt to death after such mind-blowing sex.

Kurt hummed, and his hands travelled down Blaine's back and over his ass, where he grabbed and pulled, trying to keep him deep inside. Blaine closed his eyes and groaned.

"Yeah," Kurt replied. His lips traced Blaine's jaw line. "But I don't think I can move."

"Then don't," Blaine muttered quietly. "You don't ever have to move again."

Kurt let out a hoarse little chuckle that was probably the sexiest sound Blaine had ever heard, and Kurt had made many incredible sounds in the past hour. "I will have to leave eventually, you know."

"Not right now," Blaine said, and tilted his head to once again press their foreheads together. "Stay the night."

Kurt's thumb caressed the dip of his spine, right above the curve of his ass. "Are you sure?"

Blaine kissed him, feeling heady and drunk with everything they had just shared. He whispered: "Stay forever."

They both knew exactly what that meant, without the need to say another word.


	21. Chapter 21

A ray of sunlight fell right on the middle of Blaine's bed. The clothes that last night had been thrown all over the floor were now folded in a neat pile on top of the dresser, and the room still smelled of sex mixed with Blaine's cologne.

Kurt was still asleep. His face was buried on a pillow, and he breathed peacefully and deeply, his sated, naked body covered from the waist down by the sheets. His arm stretched towards the left side of the bed almost instinctively, and when he found nothing but emptiness, Kurt woke up slowly, like the absence was pulling him from his dreams.

He knew exactly where he was, and even if he had had trouble remembering who this room belonged to, the scent of Blaine's skin and the unforgettable flashes of what had happened only a few hours ago were fresh all around him. His backside, also a reminder, was slightly sore, but not uncomfortably so. It was more like his body remembered exactly what Blaine had done to it, and needed it again so urgently that it was screaming for it.

However, not finding Blaine right beside him sent a little pang of worry through Kurt, who stretched his arms over his head and sat up.

He didn't have much time to freak out – did Blaine regret this already? Had he not intended on taking things so far? Was he worried about what would happen if someone at work found out? Did he think Kurt was terrible in bed? – because the door opened and Blaine walked into the room on his tiptoes, as if he didn't want to wake Kurt. His hair was wet and still curly, and he was wearing a pair of boxers and an old college t-shirt.

When he saw Kurt was awake, he smiled so brightly every worry Kurt had ever had flew out the window and straight into the sun.

"Good morning," Blaine said, heading towards the bed.

"Good morning," Kurt replied, as Blaine pressed a knee on the mattress to get closer to him for a kiss. Kurt's eyes widened and he covered his mouth with his hand. "Morning breath!" He warned.

Blaine chuckled, and pulled on Kurt's hand. "I don't care," he murmured, and gave him a mint-flavored kiss.

Kurt forgot about his breath immediately, and when Blaine pulled away, he tried to chase his lips, making him laugh again.

"Did you sleep well?" Blaine asked, and it looked like the smile was perpetually stuck on his face now.

Kurt smiled back. "Never better," he answered. He looked down at his hands, and then added: "I did worry for a moment when I didn't see you in bed. I thought you might…" He allowed the phrase to hang in the air, letting Blaine fill in the obvious blanks.

"I don't regret a single thing," Blaine assured him immediately, and grabbed one of Kurt's hands. "In fact, I may be having trouble behaving knowing you're not wearing anything underneath that sheet."

His words seemed so unexpected that Kurt let out a loud laughter, before controlling himself. "Mr. Anderson, you're insatiable."

Blaine groaned and leaned his head on Kurt's shoulder, dropping a kiss to his bare skin. "If I didn't have a one year old about to wake up any minute now, I wouldn't let you leave this bed for the rest of the weekend."

"That's a great plan, and I demand a rain-check," Kurt teased. "But now I think I need a shower. I'm all disgusting." He wrinkled his nose as he looked down at the dried come on his chest, which he had just noticed. He felt his cheeks heating up.

Blaine, thankfully, didn't make any comments about it, and simply told him he had already set things up for Kurt in the bathroom, including a brand new toothbrush that he could keep here. He blushed a bit too as he said that, and Kurt felt so happy he could have danced his way to the bathroom.

He only allowed himself a little shimmy once the door was safely closed behind him.

By the time he walked into the kitchen, Max was awake and sitting on his high chair. He smiled widely when he saw him.

"Hi Urt!" He screamed happily.

Kurt smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Good morning, Max! Is that a new word?"

"He's on a roll today," Blaine said, from where he was standing by the stove, cooking breakfast. He lifted a carton of orange juice. "What's this, Max?" He asked.

Max clapped. "Juice!"

"That's right!" Kurt exclaimed excitedly. "You're the smartest little boy I've ever met!"

"Isn't he?" Blaine said, pride dripping from his words. He glanced at Kurt for a moment, eyes shifting over the comfy clothes he was wearing, darkening for a second. Kurt filed away this new knowledge that Blaine liked to see him in his clothes, even if they were a little short on him. "I'm making pancakes, is that alright?"

Kurt hummed in contentment as he headed straight for the coffee pot. "That sounds great."

The three of them had breakfast together, pointing at all the different things on the table and trying to teach Max how to say their names. By the time Kurt was on his second cup of coffee, the little boy had added _milk_ and _spoon_ to his repertoire.

Once they were done, Kurt insisted on doing the dishes, and Blaine, after giving him a quick peck on the lips in thanks, said he would give Max a bath in the meantime. Kurt had trouble avoiding the fantasy that took shape in his head, where this was normal and usual and completely out of the ordinary, where Kurt hadn't stayed for the night, but actually lived here, where he was part of this little family…

He was shaken back to reality by the insistent buzzing on his phone, and completely forgot about it when he realized he had two dozen texts from Rachel, who was out of her mind with concern because he hadn't gone home the previous night.

Kurt texted her back, apologizing for not letting her know he was staying at Blaine's, and telling her he would be home later. However, when she replied with a million excited emojis and asked for details, Kurt decided to go back to ignoring his phone for the next few hours.

Blaine walked into the kitchen with Max in his arms, wrapped in a towel and holding a rubber ducky with a bowtie ( _of course. Of course the ducky has a bowtie_ , Kurt thought). For a moment, Kurt wondered what he was supposed to do. Now that breakfast was over, was he supposed to just go back to his apartment? He really didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to at some point, and he didn't want to overstay his welcome, either.

"Hey, I was thinking…" Blaine said. "It's a really lovely day to take Max to the park."

"Oh," Kurt said, interpreting that as Blaine politely saying he wanted to hang out with his nephew. "Sure…"

"What do you say? We could take him, maybe grab a bite somewhere for lunch?" Blaine asked, watching him as if measuring his reaction. "Unless you have other plans…"

Kurt grinned at him, relieved. "Nope. No other plans. I'm all yours."

Blaine's eyes morphed into that golden shade Kurt had discovered last night at those words, and Kurt felt a shiver run down his spine. "Really, now?" He asked in a tone of voice that seemed completely inappropriate while holding his one year old nephew.

Kurt decided to change the subject, or he would have to drag Blaine back to bed, even if that meant Max would have to fend for himself for a while. "Do you want help dressing him?"

Blaine accepted the change of course and passed Max over to Kurt. "Of course. I'll let the expert take care of it."

Since Kurt dressed Max in the red shirt with polka dots he had made for him, paired with jeans and red sneakers, Blaine dressed with a navy blue button down and the red bowtie with polka dots that matched Max's outfit. Kurt gave him a long, sweet kiss when he saw him: he looked so handsome he could hardly resist him.

"I only have yesterday's clothes," Kurt said sadly, as he got dressed himself. "You two look super cute and I'm like an old trash bag."

"If that's what a trash bag looks like, then I want to be a trash bag, too," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "And don't say you're old. I'm nine years older than you. I'm the old one in this relationship."

Kurt stopped caring about his clothes, because the amazing tingle he felt when Blaine said the word _relationship_ was the best distraction in the world.

It truly was a lovely day to be outside. They walked to the park hand in hand, as if it was something they did every single day, Max bouncing happily in Blaine's arms and babbling in excitement. Other families seemed to have had the same idea, and the park was filled with children running around, chasing each other, playing hide and seek, and making their parents push them on the swings.

As always when he was surrounded by a crowd, Max suddenly quieted down and studied the situation around him. He didn't seem exactly eager to join the loudest of kids, but he did point at the slide and stared at Blaine with big blue eyes. "Baine," he said eagerly.

Blaine placed Max on the top of the slide and Kurt kneeled at the end to catch him. The kid slid all the way down while laughing and threw his little arms around Kurt's neck when he got there. Blaine was smiling so much it looked like his face was going to be split in two.

When Max got bored and decided to run off to the sandbox, Blaine reached for Kurt's hand, and they followed him a few steps behind, keeping an eye on him as they sat on a white bench. Max planted his butt on the sand and shyly reached for a little red plastic bucket that seemed to belong to the little girl sitting next to him. She smiled encouragingly and they began to fill it with sand.

"There goes my beautiful and carefully-planned outfit," Kurt sighed, watching Max getting sand all over himself. "Why do children enjoy such horribly filthy activities?"

"Are you telling me you never played in a sandbox when you were a kid?" Blaine asked, teasingly.

"Never," Kurt replied with his head high. "My Dad once tried to make me play in one and I cried so loud the other parents thought he was trying to abduct me. I think they even called the police. So he just took me home and we had a perfectly civilized tea party in the garden."

Blaine shook his head as he chuckled. "You are one of a kind, Kurt Hummel."

"Glad you noticed, Blaine Anderson," Kurt whispered, and kissed his cheek. They watched Max in companionable silence for a while, and then Kurt asked: "Do you always bring Max to the park on weekends?"

"Not really," Blaine answered. "I didn't want to expose him all that much to the cold during the winter. But I've been trying different outings. He didn't like going to the movies that much: he started screaming when the lights went out. I think he's just too young. I took him to the zoo, and I've never seen a kid look so bored in front of a lion before, so…" Blaine shrugged. "At least here he can socialize with other children."

"He seemed to like story time at the library, too. Maybe I can take him again one of these days," Kurt suggested, thoughtfully.

"Mm, sure. And you can see that guy again, huh?" Blaine teased, raising an eyebrow as he looked at him. "What was his name? Nick? Noel?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Noah. And in case you haven't noticed, that definitely didn't work out."

"At the risk of sounding incredibly selfish…" Blaine said in a low voice, leaning in very slowly. "I'm very glad it didn't."

They kissed for a few seconds, feeling happy and warm, before turning their attention back to Max, who was now emptying the bucket so the little girl could fill it again.

"Well, it looks like he likes the park," Kurt commented, resting his chin on Blaine's shoulder. "You have a winner."

Max stood in the middle of the sandbox and looked around for them. When he found them, he raised a little plastic shovel over his head and screamed: "SPOON!"

Kurt had to press his mouth against Blaine's shoulder to stop himself from laughing. Blaine beamed back at his nephew and gave him a thumbs up. "Well done, kiddo!"

When Max went back to playing with his new friend, Kurt turned to Blaine. "Did you talk to Sam today? Do you know how he's doing?"

"We texted a bit this morning," Blaine said. "He's doing a little better, though he's still disappointed. But he's spending the whole weekend with Mercedes, so I'm sure he'll be fine by Monday."

Max began crying because the little girl's mother picked her and her toys up to leave. Blaine gave Kurt a quick pat on the knee and stood up to go to him. Kurt saw him chat with the woman for a moment, as he tried to calm Max, then he came back and sat back next to Kurt, with lap full of pouty one year old.

"Guess who just got a play date for next Saturday!" Blaine exclaimed excitedly. "Max made a new friend!"

"Oh, honey, good for you," Kurt kissed the top of Max's head.

"We exchanged phone numbers, and we'll meet here again next week. Her daughter, Lola, was pretty unhappy to leave Max as well, so it sounds like it could be the start of a nice friendship," Blaine explained smiling.

"Sounds really nice," Kurt said, as he tried to brush the sand from Max's clothes.

Once Max forgot to be upset, he pulled on Kurt's hand and took him to the swings. They stayed at the park for a little while longer, and then decided to go for a walk, before stopping somewhere for lunch.

It was so incredibly beautiful and extraordinary, Kurt thought, to walk hand in hand with Blaine, with Max in his arms. He remembered his little fantasy from earlier that morning, and for a moment, it felt like it had come true, like they truly were a family. He couldn't remember being so happy before.

They finally walked into a diner and found a table by the window. It looked like the place was straight out of Grease, and Blaine swore their burgers were to die for. He fished some of Max's toys out of the diaper bag and gave them to Max, who was sitting on a highchair, so he could entertain himself for a little while.

As they ate, they chatted about nothing and everything. There wasn't a single moment of awkwardness, and Kurt was so glad and relieved that they still got along as well as they had before having sex. Nothing had changed, and yet everything was the best kind of different.

Blaine popped a French fry into his mouth, looking nonchalant. "You know, maybe next time you'll let me take you on an actual date, without any tiny third wheels," he said, looking quickly at Max and then back at his food.

The way he said it, Kurt realized Blaine had been trying to say it for a while, and wondered if he was worried Kurt was going to say no. Who in their right minds would say no to Blaine Anderson?

"I would like that," Kurt said, his blue eyes fixed on Blaine's.

Blaine beamed at him from across the table, and reached for his soda.

By the time they made it back to Blaine's apartment, Max was tired and sleepy, ready for his nap. Blaine took him to his bedroom, and Kurt stood at the doorway, watching him as he tenderly put the kid in the crib, humming a random melody. Max was asleep within a minute or two, and when Blaine walked out of the room, they looked at each other.

They didn't need to speak a word.

Kissing fervently, they went into Blaine's room, already pulling at their clothes, trying to reach the skin they so maddeningly hid. Soon they were naked and rutting together on the bed, already panting and moaning into each other's mouths, the urge licking at them like flames.

"God, you make me feel like a kid again," Blaine grunted, as he grabbed Kurt's ass with his hands, trying to get him even closer. "This is ridiculous."

"This is perfect," Kurt replied, his voice hitching when the head of his cock caught against Blaine's.

They came muffling their cries with their mouths pressed together.

* * *

In the end, Kurt didn't go home later that day. Instead, he texted Rachel to let her know she was staying at Blaine's again, and they spent the rest of the day cuddling on the couch with Max and watching Disney movies, simply enjoying being together.

Kurt insisted on cooking dinner, and Blaine couldn't resist the idea, so he played with Max on the living room floor while Kurt made lemon rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes and salad. While they ate, Kurt once again had the feeling that he was part of a family, that this was what a perfect life was like. He had never felt like he belonged before, not even when he first arrived in New York and realized he was in a city where his differences didn't matter. It was here, in this apartment, with these two boys, where Kurt truly belonged, and that scared him and excited him at the same time.

After the dishes were done, and Max was asleep, they were once again compelled to run back into Blaine's bedroom, like their bodies were calling each other. They just couldn't get enough, and there were so many new expanses of skin to explore. As Blaine laid there staring at the ceiling and working hard to breathe, Kurt kissed every little inch of his body, becoming familiar with the crook of his elbow, the hair on his chest, the dip of his hipbones. He allowed his tongue to taste and mark, until Blaine was so desperate he was begging him to just _do something_ , and Kurt was only a man – he had to comply.

Slowly making his way down, giving Blaine enough time to pull away if he wanted to, Kurt pulled Blaine's legs apart and kissed the inside of his thighs, before pressing his thumbs on the sides of his entrance. He glanced up at Blaine once again to make sure this was okay, and when he saw the fire in Blaine's eyes, the lust flushing every inch of his face and making him look so desperate, he leaned his head down, and licked.

The previous night, they both had been quiet, like what they were doing was so special and relevant that they didn't want to taint it with needless words. Tonight, however, as soon as Kurt's tongue was pushing past the ring of muscle, Blaine was babbling uncontrollably, rocking his hips and begging shamelessly for more.

"Oh my god, Kurt, yes, yes, yes, right there, don't stop, don't ever stop, oh god." He rocked his hips, trying to get Kurt's tongue deeper. "Please, please, Kurt."

Kurt was so hard just by listening to him that even the contact with the mattress was driving him insane. He pushed his ass up to free his erection, which bobbed heavily between his legs, and focused on Blaine, on his pleasure, on the way his body vibrated with every little push of his tongue.

He noticed Blaine reaching to touch his shoulder, and he looked up. Blaine was handing him the lube and condoms with his eyes blown so wide, he could barely see their whiskey shade. They were all black, deep and lustful.

Blaine was so far gone, he didn't let Kurt stretch him too much. As soon as he had pushed three fingers in, he swatted him away, sat up and pushed Kurt against the headboard, before straddling his lap.

"God, Blaine," Kurt moaned, watching him in awe. He had never guessed Blaine could be so eager, so desperate in bed. "You're so…"

"Fuck me," Blaine practically whined, sliding the condom onto Kurt's cock. "Fuck me, Kurt."

Kurt could have come from the tone of his voice only, but he luckily managed to hold back. Blaine positioned himself and then lowered his hips, firmly and quickly, until Kurt was buried so deep inside of him that they had stopped being two separate men.

Kurt matched with a sharp thrust every wave of Blaine's body. He ran his hands over Blaine's thighs, marveling at how strong they looked as the muscles shifted. He got lost in the absolutely focused expression on Blaine's face, who had his eyes closed and his lower lip caught between his teeth. It was too good to be true, wasn't it? But still, here Kurt was, watching this perfect man come undone, and he was allowed to be the one to witness it, to be part of it.

Blaine came so suddenly, with a loud cry that seemed to echo against the walls, that it almost shocked Kurt, who had been so mesmerized by Blaine that he had barely noticed he was approaching his own climax. He grabbed onto Blaine's hips and thrust up into him hard and fast, his wide blue eyes appreciating the view in front of him: Blaine's face, full of bliss, the sweat gathering on his hairline, making his hair curl; the streak of come between their chests; Blaine's untouched cock bobbing against Kurt's stomach.

Kurt's orgasm was so intense, he blacked out for a moment. One second he was pushing hard into Blaine, and the next he was laying back against the headboard, panting and spent, with Blaine still on his lap, dropping kisses on Kurt's shoulders, neck, cheekbones…

"You're incredible," Blaine murmured, pressing their foreheads together.

Kurt wanted to reply. The words were on the tip of his tongue, perfect and so sure, but he knew it was too soon. So instead, he kissed Blaine with all the passion he held inside him, and hoped that conveyed, just as effectively as words would, how much Kurt loved him.


	22. Chapter 22

Sam stood at the door of Blaine's apartment on Saturday night and pointed a finger at his friend. "You owe me. Big time."

Blaine smiled at him as charmingly as he could. "I always owe you, Sam."

"You bet your ass you do," Sam replied, and walked into the apartment. Max immediately ran towards him and collided with his knees. "Hey, champ."

"Hi Sam!" Max exclaimed, looking up at him with big blue eyes and a winning smile that was all Cooper.

"Oh hey! Look at you talking like the big boy you are!" Sam bent to pick him up and tickled him, making Max laugh loudly.

Blaine moved into the living room and grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. "He's been a talking machine for the past few days. It's like, now that he's finally started, he can't turn it off."

"That's because he's the smartest little boy in the whole world, aren't you?" Sam asked him, and Max shrieked in obvious confirmation. "You leaving already?"

Blaine slipped his jacket on and checked his hair on the mirror one last time. "Yeah. Kurt just texted me that he's about to get off the subway, so I'll just meet him downstairs. If Max sees him, he won't let us go."

Sam observed him quietly for a few seconds, as Max went to dig a little plastic truck out of his toy box. "You know, this might be the first time in a very, very long time I see you completely calm before a date."

Blaine shrugged. "Kurt and I know each other well by now."

"Because he was your student first, or because he works for you?" Sam arched an eyebrow, and Blaine turned to him, frowning.

"Look, Sam, I know you're not exactly okay with this, and I know you wanted to see Mercedes tonight, so if you don't want to stay with Max just say it, and Kurt and I can just order some food in and…"

"No, no," Sam interrupted immediately. "I'll stay. It's fine. I just… you know. I worry. I can't see myself falling for one of my students. It would be too weird."

"You know I never planned on this," Blaine retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. He felt suddenly exposed. "I never intended to have feelings for Kurt. It certainly did complicate a few things but… Sam, it feels so right. When I'm with him… I don't know. I guess I just forget what it's like to have a broken heart."

Sam's face was full of something too akin to pity, and Blaine didn't like it. "And are you sure he's not going to be the next one to break it?"

Blaine kissed Max's head goodbye before heading towards the door. "Sam, I trust him with my nephew's life. Do you really think I wouldn't trust him with my heart?"

Just as Blaine stepped onto the sidewalk, he saw Kurt crossing the street at the corner, so he made his way over to meet him. As soon as Kurt caught sight of him, his lips pulled upward in a bright, happy smile. He slid straight into Blaine's arms, as if it was the most natural thing to do in the whole world, just press their bodies together and share a quick, lovely peck on the lips.

"You look stunning," Blaine said as greeting, letting his fingers dig a little at the curve of Kurt's spine, where they fit so perfectly.

Kurt was wearing all blue, which made his eyes pop spectacularly, jeans and button down, sleeves pull up neatly to his elbows. He had a jacket slung over one of his arms, a darker shade of blue, with some spark on the lapels that would have been ridiculous on anyone else, but would probably look amazing on him. Kurt was a risk-taker, in fashion and in every other aspect of his life, and Blaine was constantly mesmerized by him.

"You don't look bad at all yourself," Kurt said, with a slight purr on his voice that sent a pang of arousal through Blaine's body. His smile became tenderer when he saw Blaine was wearing the bowtie he had made for him, a splash of color against his black pants and jacket, and white button down. "I love this color on you," he murmured, as his fingers tugged slightly at the ends of the bowtie.

"Thank you," Blaine replied with a smile. "A genius new designer made it for me."

"Shut up," Kurt laughed, but there was a pink blush on his cheeks after the compliment.

Blaine reached for his hand and pulled him into a walk, heading north. "It's a beautiful evening. Do you mind if we walk instead of taking a cab? We have time."

"Of course," Kurt agreed, intertwining their fingers. Sometimes they both silently marveled at how perfectly they fit together. "Are you still not telling me where we are going?"

"I told you, it's a surprise," Blaine teased, and Kurt rolled his eyes at him, but let it go.

"How was Max?" Kurt asked.

It always sent a warm feeling through him, whenever Kurt showed interest about something related to Max, especially when he didn't have to, or when Blaine didn't expect it. It was completely and overwhelmingly nice to know there was someone who cared about Max just as much as Blaine did.

"He's fine. He loves Sam," Blaine replied. "They always have fun together."

"And what about Sam?" Kurt said, as they stopped at a corner to wait for the red light. "I haven't talked to him much this week. He was busy when I picked Max up at his office on Wednesday."

"He's good, too. He had plans with Mercedes today, but cancelled to stay with Max. I honestly don't know what I would do without him," Blaine explained and wrapped his arm around Kurt to move him out of the way when a couple of teenagers ran in the opposite direction, almost crashing against Kurt's side. Lost in their own world, they didn't even care. "I owe him way too much."

"Maybe I should bake him my famous chocolate chip cookies," Kurt said thoughtfully. "Rachel says they are worth running into traffic for, and she's a vegan."

"Now _I_ want some of those," Blaine said, nudging him playfully, and Kurt chuckled.

"I can always make extra," he reassured him.

They talked about nothing and everything, sharing little anecdotes about their day, as they reached Times Square and 42nd street. By then Kurt had become a little restless, after walking so far with no idea where they were going, so Blaine gently pushed him out of the way of tourists and hurrying New Yorkers, under the awning of a coffee shop.

"Okay, fine, I'm going to tell you where we're going," Blaine said at last.

"Finally! The anticipation was killing me," Kurt laughed, placing his hands on Blaine's chest, and his excitement was so clear on his face that Blaine couldn't help leaning in for a quick kiss, before he fished two tickets out of his pocket. Kurt blinked at them in confusion. "I… Broadway tickets?"

"I remembered you told me that you tried to go to as many shows as you could when you first came to the city, but that it got harder and harder to afford the tickets as years went by," Blaine explained, suddenly feeling a little nervous, without knowing why. "And I'm not sure if you've seen Chicago, but it's a classic, and you can't go wrong with classics."

"You remembered that I…? _Blaine_ ," Kurt whispered, and he seemed truly moved. "This is wonderful. But you shouldn't have… my goodness, those are front row orchestra tickets. How did you…? It's impossible to get those seats with such short notice…"

"Well, I have my connections," Blaine said, airily and Kurt gaped at him for a moment, making Blaine laugh. "Well, Cooper had connections. One of his best friends is a stage manager. I called him and he helped me out."

"That's amazing!" Kurt said, and Blaine smiled, before grabbing his hand again to pull him in the direction of the theatre. "You never told me… uhm, you never told me what Cooper did."

Blaine read the hesitation in his tone, the way he wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask questions about Cooper. Blaine realized that, even if it was still hard to talk about his brother sometimes, with Kurt it felt as normal and easy as breathing. He wanted to share everything with Kurt, and that included his brother.

Cooper would have really liked Kurt, after all.

"He was an actor," Blaine said, and saw the surprise on Kurt's face. "He wasn't famous, by any means. He did a few commercials, and got cast in a few plays. He moved to New York from Los Angeles when theatre offered him a steadier income than movies or commercials. He wasn't getting many roles back there, anyway. He met Sara here, and suddenly New York was his home, despite how much he wanted to go back to Los Angeles. He never looked back after that."

Kurt's smile was sweet, soft, and the press of his hand against his was so steadying and firm that Blaine felt like he could keep talking all night. "He must have been good if he made it to Broadway."

"Well, he wasn't on Broadway. His plays were always off-off-off-Broadway," Blaine replied with an amused smile. "But he always behaved like he was a multiple Tony winner already. He had such a big head sometimes, I couldn't stand it." He laughed suddenly, as a memory hit him. "One night he forced me to stand outside the theatre after one of his plays and to loudly ask him for an autograph. People noticed, and thought he was someone famous, and a crowd gathered around him. He looked over the moon, radiant. He loved being the center of attention."

"It sounds like he was a really fun person," Kurt commented. "Like you could never be bored as long as he was around."

Blaine turned to him. There was a spark in his eyes, and he smiled. "That's exactly what he was like."

"What about Sara? What did she do?" Kurt asked, as they reached the Ambassador Theatre.

"She worked in publishing," Blaine said. "They were complete opposites, and no one ever guessed they could work so well together. Cooper was so loud and bright all the time, always pulling focus, and Sara was calm and patient, and so astonishingly smart. It was so delightful to just sit and hear whatever she had to say. We loved talking about books, and she always had new recommendations for me. I don't think I ever went over to their apartment for dinner and left without a new book in my hands. She was so generous and gracious…" Blaine shook his head. "I see so much of them in Max. You know, he's like the perfect combination of the both of them."

"He really is," Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine's shoulder as they waited to be lead towards their seats. "Thank you for telling me about them."

"Thank you for listening," Blaine whispered. "Thank you for wanting to know them."

Their seats were so close to the stage that Kurt could reach his hand and touch it. He looked over his shoulder and pointed at the cheaper seats, all the way in the back of the theatre, where he and Rachel usually got tickets when they could afford them. He couldn't believe how close he was now, and he took his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of his playbill and send it to his best friend, with the caption: _Look where Blaine brought me!_

Rachel texted back immediately, twice. The first text was a long keysmash that made no sense, and the second, two sentences: _I like him. You'd better keep him._

Blaine read the text over Kurt's shoulder and saw him blush. He dropped a kiss on Kurt's heated cheek, thinking that he had no intention whatsoever of going anywhere.

* * *

After the show, Kurt was a babbling, excited mess. He held Blaine's hand between his own as he told him all the things he had loved about it, how extraordinary the choreographies had been, how beautiful the costumes. Blaine asked him if he wanted to head backstage to meet the cast, since Cooper's friend had told him his name would be on the list, but Kurt suddenly became paler than usual.

"My goodness, I couldn't!" He shrieked. "I would embarrass myself. I'm just… no. No, thank you. Let's just go."

Despite Blaine's insistence, Kurt wouldn't agree on meeting the cast, so they finally headed out of the theatre. New York was so much cooler than the inside of the theatre, where the lights had been hot and blinding. Kurt tucked himself closer to Blaine's side and sighed in contentment.

"Thank you so much. This was… well, a lovely surprise doesn't even begin to cover it," he said. "Best date ever gets closer."

Blaine smiled at him. "I'm glad you think so. Are you hungry? I made a reservation for dinner."

"You are so entirely perfect," Kurt said, and stopped him in the middle of the sidewalk, tourists and New Yorkers be damned, to kiss him.

It was like the city melted away. They couldn't hear the traffic or the people around them, couldn't see the million lights from the office buildings and the theatres, couldn't smell that distinctive New York scent – that scent of concrete, exhaust, and more, so much more. There was only this, the two of them, and every inch of their bodies meeting, as their lips slid together with a familiarity that shouldn't have been possible yet.

They pulled away slowly, reluctantly, wishing they could just stand there and kiss for the rest of the night. Blaine smiled softly at him, open and trusting, and Kurt melted as effectively as the city, wondering if anyone in the history of humankind had ever felt the way he felt about this man…

"Hi Professor Anderson!" A voice behind them said, startling them back to reality. "And oh. Hi, Kurt."

Blinking in confusion, because a moment ago human beings didn't exist, except for the two of them, Kurt turned around as he felt Blaine stiffening in his arms.

It was Natalie, that annoying girl who'd had a crush on Blaine for years. She was standing there, looking at them with wide eyes, as panic filled every inch of Kurt's body.

Blaine's arms fell away from Kurt's waist, where they had nested during the kiss. "Hi Natalie! It's nice to see you."

His voice, however, sounded abnormally high, betraying him.

She seemed so uncomfortable that Kurt hoped she would flee the scene immediately, but instead she looked at the playbills in their hands, and said: "Oh Chicago! I saw that last month with my parents. It was great, wasn't it?"

"Yes, fantastic," Kurt said dryly. He looked at her, hoping his murderous glance was conveying everything he was trying to say to her: _if you say a single word about this to anyone, I will hunt you down and kill you with my own bare hands._

"Well, I… have to go," she said nervously, taking a step away from Kurt. "I'll see you both in class, I guess…"

And without waiting for their replies, she practically ran away, crossing the street and avoiding being run over by a cab at the last minute.

They stood on the same spot, simply breathing, and Kurt was suddenly aware of how they were not touching anymore.

Fear replaced the warm happiness he had felt just a minute ago. Blaine looked down at his shoes and ran a hand over his hair, something Kurt knew he only did when he was nervous or frustrated.

"Uhm. We can just go home, if you…" he began to suggest.

Blaine shook his head. "No, no. Our reservations. We should… let's just go."

They started to walk again. Blaine had shoved both hands in his jacket's pockets, and Kurt was wringing his playbill anxiously, wondering if things were about to go incredibly wrong after they had just been incredibly perfect.

Blaine had made reservations at a Thai restaurant a few blocks away. The waiter guided them to a beautiful table lit by small paper lamp. Everything around them smelled spicy, waking their senses, but it wasn't enough to pull Blaine away from the spell Natalie had put him in.

They ordered, though Kurt was sure Blaine had no idea what he had just asked for. After the waiter brought them their drinks, Kurt decided he couldn't take the silence anymore. Feeling a little desperate, he reached across the table and grabbed Blaine's hand, who flinched at the sudden touch, making Kurt regret the move immediately.

"Look, Blaine, I…" he sighed, tiredly. "I get it, okay? It's all fun and games until people find out. I know you could risk your job for this, and I will completely understand if you want to just call it a night and go home." Kurt was amazed he managed to say that much without crying. He refused to cry. "We can just forget about all this."

That finally made Blaine react. "What? No, that's not what I want," he said, frowning.

"It would be okay if it was," Kurt insisted, making sure the hurt and the fear didn't show on his face. "You have a job that you love and need to take care of, and a kid to raise. It would be the sensible option. We can just talk to Natalie and ask her to…"

"I am not doing that," Blaine said, so firmly that Kurt startled. "I'm not saying I'm not worried – she could get me in a lot of trouble if she told anyone, but that doesn't mean I want to put an end to this…"

"It would be understandable, Blaine," Kurt said softly, fidgeting with his napkin. "I really wouldn't…"

"Are you trying to be honorable or do you really want to put a stop to this?" Blaine asked, a little brusquely.

"I don't want to be the reason you get in trouble," Kurt replied.

"Kurt," Blaine murmured, and Kurt finally looked up at him. "Have you noticed that I am so much happier since you are in my life?"

Kurt's breath stuttered in his chest. Whatever he expected Blaine to say, it wasn't _that_. "Blaine, I…"

"If there's anything I've learned in the past year, is that you have to know what the priorities in life are," Blaine said, his whiskey eyes fixed on Kurt's. "My job is important and I would really, really like to keep it, but it's people, Kurt, people you care about and that you are happy to be with that make everything worth it. Max, and Sam, and you… I wouldn't change you three for anything in the world."

It was like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Kurt pressed a hand to his chest, feeling it tight and empty, except for his heart, which was beating wildly. "Blaine…"

"If something happens, I'll face it," Blaine said, and he looked ten years older all of a sudden. He leaned over the table to get closer. "But I'm done losing people, Kurt. I'm not going to walk away."

Kurt closed his eyes, relief washing over him in waves. "If you're sure…" he mumbled.

"I'm sure," Blaine interrupted, and now he smiled. He grabbed Kurt's hand between his and kissed his knuckles. "In case you haven't noticed it yet, I'm kind of crazy about you, Kurt Hummel."

Impulsively, Kurt moved to the chair next to Blaine, and threw his arms around Blaine's shoulders to pull him in for a kiss. No one had ever said such beautiful things to Kurt. No one had made him feel like he was worth taking risks for.

"I'm crazy about you too," Kurt whispered against his lips, when what he truly wanted to say was _I love you, I love you, I love you_ until he said those three words so much they tangled all together.

Blaine wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly against him, as if he didn't want to ever let go. Kurt buried his face on the crook of his neck and simply took in the scent of Blaine's skin, so calming and beautifully familiar.

Once their waiter came back with their food, Kurt went back to his seat, and looked at Blaine, still serious but feeling better. "So what are we going to do? Should we talk to her?"

Blaine chewed his Duck Num Dang thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering: "I don't think so. I don't think she'll say anything, but I don't want to make her feel threatened or uncomfortable either. She's my student too, Kurt."

"Okay," Kurt said, because it was ultimately Blaine's decision. "But in the meantime I don't think we should be kissing or holding hands in the middle of Manhattan. We could have run into the head of the English department, or even the freaking dean. We need to be more careful, Blaine."

"I guess you're right," Blaine said, sounding a bit defeated. "I guess we could just keep our dates at home. I know it's not as fun, but…"

"I can survive without going to a Broadway show, I promise," Kurt teased.

"The semester is almost over," Blaine tried to reason. "You'll stop being my student very soon. Then it won't really matter. We're only doing something inappropriate because you're in one of my classes."

"You make it sound so sordid," Kurt said, biting his lower lip.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Shut up and eat your Pad Thai."

Kurt smiled, but put the teasing aside. "It'll be alright. We'll be careful."

The rest of their date was just as amazing as the beginning of it. The encounter with Natalie had made a dent on their night, but it hadn't entirely ruined it. They enjoyed being together so much that Blaine found it difficult to worry about other things when Kurt was leaning sleepily against his shoulder on the subway ride back home.

Sam was sitting outside on the balcony having a beer when they arrived. They had a tacit agreement not to mention their run in with Natalie to him, because they didn't want to worry him. Besides, Kurt knew he hadn't won Sam over yet, and that he had doubts about Kurt and Blaine's relationship, so he thought it wouldn't truly help his case to admit that, somehow, even a little bit, he was right.

"Hey guys," he said, as he came back inside. "Had a nice night?"

"Yeah, we did," Blaine said, smiling sweetly at Kurt, and for a few seconds, the world melted away again, and the two of them was all that existed. Blaine had to force himself to look away from Kurt's eyes. "How's Max? Any trouble?"

"Not at all, he's a saint," Sam said, as he went over to the couch to pick up his jacket and his cellphone. "We played with his trucks for a while, and then watched a movie. He fell asleep halfway through it."

"Great," Blaine said. "I'll go check on him. Thanks, Sam. You know I really appreciate your help."

"No problem, buddy," Sam gave him a friendly pat on the back and then turned to Kurt. "I guess I'll see you on Wednesday?"

"Of course," Kurt said with a smile. He really wanted Sam to like him. It was important to Blaine, so it was important to him as well.

"Alright. I'm out of here. Goodnight, guys," Sam waved a little awkwardly and left, shutting the door behind him softly.

Kurt sighed. "He hates me. I really need to bake those cookies."

Blaine chuckled and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Stop worrying. He doesn't know you all that well. Once he does, he'll see how amazing you are, just like I see it."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Kurt murmured, tugging a little on Blaine's shirt, wishing it was off already. "Let's check on Max and then go to bed?"

Blaine heard the urgency in Kurt's voice. It sent arousal all through his body, heavy and thick like the blood in his veins. "Good plan."

They held hands as they walked down the hallway, free and safe between these walls, where no one could see them, and where they could be exactly what they wanted to be: happy.

It was only a matter of time until they could set that happiness free, and let it spread out into the world. But for now, this was enough. They were together, and as they kissed Max's forehead, they knew that was the only thing they needed.


	23. Chapter 23

Being so lost in Blaine and what they shared, and how amazing it was to discover new things about each other, it took a while for Kurt to realize Rachel was feeling extremely left out and miserable.

"I'm so sorry," he said to her one night. He'd come home after having dinner with Blaine and found her alone on the couch, crying to a romantic comedy on the television and eating non-vegan chocolate, which meant things were getting serious. "I've been so busy with Blaine and Max that I didn't stop and think how that would make you feel. I'm sorry, Rach. I'm such an asshole."

"You have every right to be happy," she assured him immediately, trying to give him her best smile. "And I'm very glad you and Blaine found each other. It sounds like what you guys have is perfect."

"It kinda is, but it doesn't mean you stop being important to me," Kurt said firmly, sitting beside her on the couch and wrapping an arm around her. "I won't ever do it again, Rach. How about we go back to our weekly traditional dinners? We could do it Monday nights, when you're free."

The sudden spark in her eyes at feeling included again made Kurt feel even worst. He was a terrible friend. "Oh I would love that! Remember when we did those potlucks when we first moved in and invited people from school over?"

"Yeah, that was fun." Kurt wasn't about to admit it, but he'd rather drop dead than invite any idiots from school into his home, especially now that someone could find out about his and Blaine's relationship and ruin everything. "It can be just us if you want, though."

"I think I may need to start getting out of my shell a little bit," Rachel murmured, looking a bit embarrassed. "Now that you and Blaine are dating and you spend so much time over at his place, it just hit me that I kinda drifted apart from all my other friends. I can't depend on just you. It's not fair to either of us."

"Okay, so what do you want to do?" Kurt asked, ready to give this poor woman anything she asked of him.

"Let's go back to those potlucks," she said, looking a lot happier already. "We just need to find new friends to invite over. Blaine is definitely invited, because I really need to get to know him better now that you two are dating…"

And just like that, it hit him. Kurt had only met her briefly during Max's birthday party, but he had liked her immediately, and thought she had the same kind of vibe he and Rachel had. He couldn't help thinking that if they had known Mercedes Jones back in high school, they would have been best friends.

So the following Monday, just as Kurt was taking his chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, the doorbell rang and Rachel opened the door to find Blaine, Max, Sam and Mercedes.

"Hello! Welcome to our humble abode!" Rachel said theatrically, but Kurt could hear the enthusiasm in her voice and it warmed him to know she was happier already. "Please, make yourself at home! I'm Rachel, Kurt's roommate."

As Mercedes and Sam introduced themselves, Blaine put Max down on the floor, who immediately ran towards Kurt. Kurt had to pick him up before he reached the oven.

"Hey, careful there, kiddo!" He said, laughing, and kissed his chubby cheek. "Remember what we said the other day? We have to be careful in the kitchen. Especially when the oven is…"

"Hot!" Max finished for him.

Kurt smiled. "That's right!"

Blaine had approached them as they talked. He placed a bag with containers on the counter and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek in greeting. "Hey you. Missed you."

"I left your apartment two hours ago," Kurt laughed, but feeling secretly pleased. He turned in Blaine's arm, still holding Max against his chest, and kissed him briefly on the lips. "But I missed you too."

"You two are so sickeningly cute," Mercedes said from behind them, and they pulled away, blushing and embarrassed. "Hi, Kurt. It's nice to see you again."

"You too!" Kurt pulled away from Blaine to greet Mercedes and Sam. "I'm glad you guys could come."

"We brought a salad and some chicken parm," Sam said, lifting the containers. "Where should I put them?"

"I'll take care of it, thank you!" Rachel said, grabbing them.

Soon they were sitting around the table, Max passing from lap to lap and stealing food from everyone's plates, and chatting like they were old friends. Kurt had worried that having Blaine and another couple around would make Rachel sad because she was the only one who didn't have someone, but she seemed to be having a fantastic time exchanging stage anecdotes with Mercedes.

Sam still looked a bit uncomfortable around Kurt, but as they chatted and ate, he began to relax, and by the time he bit into one of Kurt's chocolate chip cookies, he didn't even seem to remember that Kurt was Blaine's student. Blaine and Kurt looked at each other with pleased, confidential smiles, but didn't say a word.

The night ended with Max falling asleep on the couch and Blaine saying he needed to get him home because it was well past his bedtime. Rachel and Kurt walked them all to the door, and before leaving Sam turned and said: "Repeat again on Monday? We'll bring the ice cream."

Kurt promised to make some pasta and gave himself a mental high five.

* * *

After a very long afternoon of office hours and listening to students about to crack under the pressure of the end of the semester, Blaine got home feeling moody and tired, angered by the rain that had begun to fall just as he left campus. Stress and exhaustion were beginning to pile up, and he only wanted to crawl towards the summer break and forget he was an adult with a job for a few weeks.

However, as soon as he walked into the living room, he forgot about all the annoying little things that had made today so unbearable. He forgot about frowning and the stack of papers to be graded, and about how frizzy his hair must be after getting drenched on the walk home.

Kurt was asleep on the couch, one of his textbooks fallen on the floor next to him, and Max cuddled up against his side, also asleep. They both looked so peaceful and beautiful, Max so trustful and happy, with Kurt's arm curled up around him protectively, making sure he was safe even in his sleep.

And as he watched them together, the two boys who had stolen his heart – and god, he didn't ever want it back, they could keep it forever – one realization hit him, sure, sweet and familiar, like it had been tittering on the edge of his mind for a while, but only now he found the words to explain it, and they seemed so simple, so perfect, so obvious, that he wondered how they hadn't come to him before.

 _I love him_ , Blaine thought, looking at the shadow of Kurt's eyelashes against his cheekbones. He was so beautiful words couldn't describe him. _I love him, I love him_.

He felt the sudden need to shake him awake, to kiss his pink lips, to tell him: I love you. I love you and I can't believe I'm so lucky to have you.

He wanted to touch his skin, always so perfect and soft, and say: I thought I knew what love was. But if what I knew before was love, then this is something new and so much greater than that.

He longed to wrap himself around Kurt's side, throw his arm around both him and Max, and whisper: You two give me a reason to wake up every morning. I didn't imagine my life would be like this. I didn't think I could find this kind of happiness. I didn't think it existed anymore.

But what he felt, love that made every other feeling he'd ever had pale in comparison, seemed too extraordinary to be said now, on this rainy day, when they were both clearly exhausted and busy with other things, when life kept getting in the way.

When he told him, Blaine wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to have the time to watch the way Kurt's eyes sparkled. He wanted to be able to enjoy Kurt's reaction, to see him utter the words back, his gorgeous lips forming them deliciously (because he would say them back, right?). He wanted to be able to grab his hand and guide him into bed, and whisper those words over and over into his naked body, make every little crevice and curve feel them, and watch Kurt come undone under them.

So for now, he tucked the realization warmly against his heart and saved it for the right time. But knowing it was there, knowing it had hit him, it was enough to brighten his day, and suddenly the sky didn't look so grey.

* * *

As finals approached, they both got so busy they barely had time to be together. Blaine usually stole a kiss or two when he got home, before Kurt packed his textbooks and ran out the door to get to the library or go back to his apartment to finish a paper due soon. Monday night dinners became a blessing, because Kurt refused to cancel them, not wanting to let Rachel down again, and they could spend some time together then, but it wasn't the same. They wanted to be alone, but they knew soon the semester would be over and they would be beautifully free.

It was a Friday evening, and Blaine had insisted on Kurt staying for dinner. They had practically inhaled a whole pizza and now they were cuddling on the couch as a Disney movie played in the background. Max watched it for a while and then got bored, but they were too lazy to get up and change it for something they wanted to watch. So as Max played and ran around the living room, they just held each other and talked. It felt like they hadn't been able to do that in weeks.

Blaine had just sleepily let out that his birthday was coming out and Kurt was about to ask him about it, when Max walked up to them, wearing a huge smile and holding a picture frame. Cooper and Blaine's faces stared back at them from behind the glass, smiling with their arms around each other.

"What you got there, buddy?" Blaine asked.

Max happily pointed at Cooper's face and exclaimed: "Daddy!"

Blaine froze and sat up, leaning so he could look at his nephew. His face was completely expressionless, but his eyes had widened a bit. "Max, how did you…?"

"Daddy," Max repeated, lifting the picture to show it to Blaine. "Daddy and Baine."

Kurt waited, holding back his breath in anticipation, for Blaine's reaction.

"That's right. That's your Daddy," he said at last, and he sounded a bit choked. He turned to Kurt as Max, satisfied, went to put the picture back where he had found it. "How did he know that?"

Kurt bit his lip, wondering if he was about to step so past the line that he would never be able to come back to it. "I… may have shown it to him?"

Blaine seemed shocked. "You did?"

"He seemed curious about it," Kurt answered nervously. "It was back when he first started saying our names. One afternoon he just started pointing at all the pictures and saying your name whenever he saw your face. But he was confused by Cooper's pictures. So I told him that was his Daddy. I didn't think he would remember…"

Blaine sat with his back so straight it looked painful.

Kurt fidgeted anxiously. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… it's not my place to tell him about him. I'm so sorry, Blaine, I…"

Blaine shifted to face him, and cupped his face with his hand, gently. "You did nothing wrong," he muttered, his voice hoarse. There were tears building in his eyes. "I should have told him that a while ago. I just don't know how to explain that Cooper's not here. Not yet. He's too young."

"I know. And it's your decision when to talk about it. I'm so sorry…" Kurt babbled, but Blaine silenced him with a kiss.

"Again, you did nothing wrong," he repeated, and smiled a bit against his lips. He turned his head, with their foreheads pressed together, to look at Max, who was now running around the room pointing at all the pictures of Cooper he could find and yelling "Daddy!" every time he found him. "He looks happy, doesn't he? Despite everything."

"Of course," Kurt reassured him, giving his hand a firm squeeze. "You're doing a fantastic job with him, Blaine."

"Well, I've had a little help," Blaine said sheepishly, nudging Kurt meaningfully. Then he turned back to Max. "Hey, kiddo. Bring me that picture. I'm going to tell you about your Daddy and your Mommy."

And the three of them cuddled together on the couch, and Blaine talked until Max fell asleep to stories of his parents, like they were the most perfect of fairytales.

* * *

Blaine's birthday was on a Thursday, probably one of the busiest days for him, filled with office hours and three different classes. Kurt barely had time to give him a kiss and wish him a happy birthday before he was out the door, running so he wouldn't be late to his first class of the morning.

They had agreed to do something special that weekend, but Kurt thought Blaine deserved a little surprise today, something that would give him a reason to smile amongst all the stress and the work constantly piling up.

Kurt had checked Blaine's schedule ahead of time to make sure he found a moment where he would be alone in his office. So at two in the afternoon he knocked on Blaine's office door and waited to hear his "come in!".

Blaine looked tired and a little annoyed. His desk was filled with papers everywhere, and he was typing almost madly on his computer, not looking up until he was done with whatever he was doing. It looked like he was trying to smile for whoever had just arrived, but he didn't really feel like it. Until he saw it was Kurt and Max, then his smile bloomed fully, authentic and easy.

"Hey you two! What are you doing here?" He asked, standing up and coming around the desk to meet them.

"Max and I thought you deserved a little surprise for your birthday, right Max?" Kurt said, as he put Max down on the floor.

Before Blaine had time to do anything at all, Kurt guided him to the couch on the opposite wall and made him sit there. He put Max on his lap and sat next to them, as he opened the small bakery box he was carrying: there were three cupcakes inside, the smell of chocolate and vanilla immediately filling the office, and there was a candle on the middle one. Kurt hurried to light it, using a box of matches he extracted from his jeans pocket.

"Kurt…" Blaine murmured, visibly touched.

"Happy birthday to you…" Kurt began so sing, as Max clapped along.

Blaine blew out the candle after he was done singing, and it looked like he was about to say something, his lips almost forming the words, before he just smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Then he kissed Max's forehead.

"Did you remember to make a wish?" Kurt asked, smiling back at him.

Blaine shook his head. "I don't need to. I have everything I need right here."

Max reached into the box to steal a cupcake, as Kurt leaned in for another kiss, because there was nothing else he could say.

Except for three little words that kept popping into his head. But Kurt held them back. For some reason, it felt like it wasn't the right time yet, but he had no rush.

They had all the time in the world.

* * *

Their first fight was about the stupidest reason, and it wouldn't have happened at all if they hadn't been so terribly stressed.

Blaine had just gotten home to take over with Max, and Kurt needed to run if he wanted to make it on time for his class. He went into the bathroom to check his hair in the mirror. He looked tired, and he knew it. He was desperately counting down the days until the summer. Just one more year of stressing and studying and he would be free of school.

He couldn't wait.

When he came back into the living room, he began to pick his things up, and immediately noticed the paper he needed to hand in that day wasn't where he had left it.

"Blaine?" He said, raising his voice so Blaine would hear him from the kitchen. "Did you see my paper? I left it on the coffee table."

"What paper?" Blaine asked distractedly.

"It said something about the fashion industry during the great depression. It was right here…" Kurt said, already turning the couch cushions around, anxiety making his heart race.

"Oh," Blaine appeared on the doorway, eyes wide. He looked just as tired as he did. "Oh, Kurt, I'm sorry. I think I just threw it in the trash."

Kurt straightened up, one of Max's action figures in his hand. Suddenly, there wasn't enough oxygen in the room. "You… you what?"

"I was cleaning up," Blaine explained. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think, I just grabbed it and…"

"Oh my God, Blaine, what the fuck?" Kurt yelled, and without thinking, he threw Max's action figure across the room, where it hit the wall and fell into pieces. "I worked my ass off on that thing for two weeks, and the deadline is in less than an hour!"

Blaine seemed a little shocked at his reaction. He raised his hands in a way that looked like he wanted to calm a wild animal. "I'm sorry, Kurt. It was a mistake. I have a printer in my office. Just give me five minutes and I'll get you a new copy…"

"Forget it!" Kurt exclaimed. "I don't want your help!"

"Hey, calm down!" Blaine said, looking upset now as well. "You're going to scare Max. Now be reasonable, and let me print you a new copy!"

Groaning in frustration, Kurt grabbed his bag and headed towards the door. "No, thank you. You've done enough already."

He was gone in a matter of seconds. Blaine stood in the same spot, looking at the door after it had slammed shut, not knowing exactly what had just happened.

Moved by a flurry of anger, stress and lack of sleep, Kurt didn't realize exactly how much of a dick he had been until he was home much later that night, lying awake on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

God, how childish he must have looked. How did Blaine even put up with him? He wouldn't be surprised if Blaine not only broke up with him but told him he didn't want him anywhere near Max again. Biting his lip, worried and regretful, Kurt toyed with his phone for a while, but was too ashamed to even try to text Blaine an apology.

What if he had ruined everything?

Kurt was out the door the next morning a lot earlier than usual and on his way to campus. It was a Wednesday, so Blaine had probably already left the apartment to leave Max with Sam. If he hurried, maybe he could catch him in his office before it was time for their Lit class.

There was a huge knot in Kurt's stomach when he knocked at the office door. He knew that if Blaine decided to put distance between them, it would be completely rational. But it didn't make it any easier.

When Blaine opened the door, Kurt swallowed thickly. He looked like shit, tired and jaded, and it reminded him of how miserable he had been last fall, when they met again after summer break and Cooper had just passed away.

And it was all Kurt's fault.

"Blaine…" He said slowly, unsure what the right words were. "Can I come in?"

Without saying anything, Blaine stepped aside and held the door opened for him. Kurt walked in, feeling heavy and doomed, as if he was walking towards his execution instead of towards a desk. He sat down carefully and waited until Blaine was seated across from him.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered brokenly. "Yesterday, I… I was completely out of line. I don't know what happened. I have no excuse, and I'm just… I'm so sorry, Blaine."

Blaine wasn't looking at him. He seemed very interested in his own hands, placed on the desk in front of him. He also didn't seem willing to talk at any point soon.

Kurt was beginning to despair. "I was a jerk and an idiot, and whatever else you must be probably thinking right now. I just want you to know I'm sorry, and that I won't behave so stupidly again." Kurt watched him, waiting with bated breath, but Blaine remained quiet. "Please. Please say something."

Very slowly, Blaine glanced up at him. His whiskey eyes were devoid of emotion, like he was trying very hard not to show what he was really feeling now. "I want you to be honest with me, Kurt," he finally said, and Kurt nodded, dread dripping all over him. "Is everything okay?"

Whatever Kurt was expecting to hear, it definitely wasn't that. He blinked dumbly for a moment, wondering if there was a hidden meaning in those words that he wasn't getting. "I… what?"

"I want to know if everything's okay, if there's a reason why you reacted that way yesterday that had nothing to do with your paper," Blaine explained, so calmly that Kurt gaped at him. "Is something bothering you? Maybe about me, about our relationship? About school or work? Are you not interested in looking after Max anymore?"

Kurt was so confused by all those questions that he didn't even know where to start answering them.

"I need you to be honest," Blaine said, still so calm that it started to freak Kurt out. "Whatever's going on, you can tell me."

Kurt shook his head very slowly, still dumbfounded. "Everything's fine…" he said, but the way Blaine was looking at him made him stop. "I mean, I'm stressed and tired, and so done with this semester, and I'm sure you feel the same, but… I would never… you and Max… Blaine, you're the best thing that's happened to me. And I hate to think I may have put all of that in jeopardy with my behavior yesterday."

Blaine studied his face quietly before replying: "I understand how this time of the year can feel like it's choking you, and how you just want these next few weeks to fly by so you can catch up on sleep. Believe me, I've been there. And it's just as difficult from the teaching side of the equation. But I also have the feeling there's something else bothering you, and I want you to know you can talk to me."

Kurt sighed and leaned back on his seat, tiredly. "I'm not sure if this is the right time to have this conversation."

Blaine regarded him in silence for a few seconds, like he was bracing himself for whatever Kurt had to say. "I think it's exactly the right time. I'm sorry, Kurt, but until I know what's going on, I can't let you stay with Max."

It felt like he had just been punched in the face. Kurt's breath stuttered, and his eyes widened. "Blaine, I would never do anything to hurt him."

"I know you wouldn't," Blaine reassured him immediately. "It's not that I don't trust you. I trust you more than anyone else, Kurt. But we all have bad days, and we all fuck up. And if you're distracted because you're worried about other stuff, or you're just too tired and fall asleep on the couch while you're with him… he's in a difficult age right now. He's curious about everything, moves on his own, grabs things from shelves… we have to be more alert than ever. And if you're not okay – which you're allowed to be, by the way – then I need to know."

Kurt knew Blaine was being completely reasonable. Max's safety had to always be first. "Okay," he agreed. "Okay."

Blaine pressed his elbows on the desk, shifting so he could get a little closer, show Kurt he had his full attention.

Kurt covered his face with his hands. "God, I'm about to sound like a pretentious asshole."

Blaine simply kept his eyes on him, open and trusting, and said: "What is it, Kurt?"

"I've been thinking about what's going to happen after the semester ends," Kurt began to say, and now he was the one feeling very interested in his own hands. He couldn't look at Blaine right now. "Things have been so hectic these past few months that we haven't actually stopped to analyze some of the aspects of our relationship. Do you realize we have three different dynamics? We are teacher and student, boss and employee, and now also… well, we have a relationship, uhm. Physical. Emotional." They hadn't used any labels, and though Kurt was desperate to use the word boyfriend, he realized it didn't apply to them. What they shared was beyond whatever that little word could mean. Blaine didn't say anything, just let him continue without interruptions. "We have blurred pretty much every line there ever was. And soon, the first dynamic, teacher-student, is going to end. And that made me start thinking about what's going to happen to the remaining two."

Blaine nodded very slowly. "I see."

"I want you to understand that working for you, being able to get to know Max and spend so much time with him has been one of the best things that's ever happened to me," Kurt said, desperate to make sure Blaine didn't doubt that for one second. "I've never felt more comfortable working for someone before, and I've never loved going to work more."

Blaine's lips shaped a little, brief smile as he figured out what Kurt was getting at. "You want to quit, don't you?"

Kurt groaned, mortified. "I sound ungrateful and stupid, don't I?"

When Blaine reached across the table and grabbed his hand, it was like the whole world steadied. "No. It's completely rational. Our relationship, our dynamic, like you said, has changed and evolved. I think if we want to maintain one, we'll have to get rid of the other at some point."

"I just don't want to make assumptions," Kurt sighed. "But it is sort of weird to get paid for something that really doesn't feel like a job anymore. And it's especially weird when we have sex after you pay me."

Blaine's laughter bubbled out of him so suddenly that it startled Kurt. But suddenly his face looked less tired, younger, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Oh my god, Kurt."

"Don't say I'm not right," Kurt said, but now he was smiling too. "Look, Blaine. I appreciate the opportunity you gave me. But if I have to choose one of the two dynamics… I won't choose the job." Kurt felt a little nervous. He had a good feeling about what he and Blaine shared, but putting out there the confidence he felt that they could thrive together as a couple made him feel slightly queasy. "And I know I'm sort of assuming, which I didn't want to do, but I was hoping that we can continue to explore this beautiful little thing we've got going."

Blaine must have noticed the anxiety in Kurt's eyes. He lifted Kurt's hand and pressed his lips to the knuckles. "Assume away, because I wasn't planning on letting you go."

It was kind of embarrassing how happy and relieved Kurt felt at those words. He grinned. "Really?"

"Really," Blaine confirmed. "And I was actually planning to talk to you about this, but I didn't want to overwhelm you with it now, when we're both already overwhelmed with the end of the semester."

And now Kurt couldn't stop grinning. "And what were you planning on saying?"

Blaine tugged at his hand to make him stand up. "Well, first I was going to fire you," he said, and Kurt laughed. "Because believe it or not, I've already thought it was getting weird. But I kinda need to keep this going until the semester is over, and I'll use my time off during the summer to find a new solution."

"Of course," Kurt said, as he came around the desk. "I need to do the same, and find a good job. Hopefully this time within my area of interest."

"Sounds good," Blaine nodded. "But before you do that, I was hoping you'd want to go somewhere for a week or two."

Kurt arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I may have found a really lovely lake house in New England," Blaine explained, as he watched a smile bloom on Kurt's face. "It's not far from Boston, so we could go there, grab a bite, go to a few art galleries, maybe. Shopping, of course."

"You know me so well," Kurt sighed in contentment.

"I think Max would also enjoy some time out of the city," Blaine said, shrugging. "I was going to tell you about it soon. I'm sure you'll also want to visit your Dad and Carole once the semester is over, so we can work out a date for after you get back…"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I think my Dad would be super pissed if I went back to Ohio without you," Kurt said, placing his arms around Blaine's neck. "So, if you want, you and Max could come with me. And maybe we could head straight to that lake house, if you want?"

Blaine's smile was nearly irresistible, so Kurt began to lean down for a kiss. "Deal."

As they kissed, they momentarily forgot where they were, and let their lips take the lead, happy to have resolved their differences, to have found a new certainty for the future they were starting to build together.

Blaine put his hands on Kurt's waist and pulled him closer, until Kurt had no other option but to straddle Blaine on the chair if he didn't want to fall headfirst on the floor. Suddenly the heat in the room seemed to be blazing, and they began to pant into each other's mouths.

"This is probably a really terrible idea," Blaine said, with one brief worried glance towards the door, which they hadn't locked.

"We can stop if you want," Kurt said, as he grabbed onto Blaine's shoulders tightly.

But he could already feel Blaine hard against him. They both knew there was no going back.

"We have to be quick," Blaine whined, a little desperate, and reached down to undo Kurt's pants.

Kurt worked Blaine's zipper open and almost sighed in relief when he had Blaine's cock in his hand. For a moment, he had believed he would never be allowed to touch Blaine like this again, to have him this close, to kiss his lips.

They stroked each other fast and rough, knowing there was no time to be gentle.

Blaine groaned. "We can't stain our clothes. Everyone would know…"

Kurt moaned as Blaine brushed the head of his cock with his thumb. "Doesn't that turn you on even more?"

Blaine gasped, but his eyes were blown, dark and wide. "Please, Kurt…"

"Don't worry. I got you," he whispered against Blaine's lips, and then slid down onto his knees under the desk.

"Oh my god, this is the best and the worst cliché in the entire world," Blaine groaned again, looking down at him like he couldn't believe it.

Kurt bit his lip as he settled more comfortably between Blaine's legs. "Have you ever fantasized about this, Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine was breathing so hard his chest was heaving. "Maybe?"

"With any student? Or someone in particular?" Kurt asked, and he trailed his tongue down the underside of Blaine's cock.

Blaine's fingers found their way into Kurt's perfectly coifed hair. "You. Always you."

And Kurt sunk down.

It really was the biggest cliché in the world, but neither cared. Blaine had to bite down on his lower lip to keep quiet, as Kurt's head bobbed up and down, his tongue doing marvelous things that seemed to send sparks through every inch of Blaine's body. It was terribly embarrassing how quickly he came, his hand tightening on the back of Kurt's head as only warning. He shook and threw his head back, as he felt Kurt swallowing around him.

"God, Kurt, you're going to kill me," he mumbled shakily as he pulled him up. They kissed messily for a few seconds. "Come on, let me get you off."

"You're late for class, Professor Anderson," Kurt whispered, grabbing Blaine's hand to keep him from touching him.

"We'll be quick," Blaine said, but as he glanced at the clock, he realized he needed to be in his classroom in less than two minutes and he looked like… well, he looked like he had just gotten a blowjob from one of his students in his office.

"Nope," Kurt said playfully. "I'll wait. You can make it up to me tonight. And in the meantime…" Kurt got up and zipped his pants. "You can think about it for the rest of the day."

"Kurt," Blaine said, looking terribly pathetic. "We have to be in the same classroom. How do you expect me to focus when…?" He grabbed Kurt by the waistband of his jeans and pulled him closer. He could make out the outline of Kurt's hard cock through the thick fabric. He brushed it carefully with his fingers.

Kurt took a step back. He looked at himself in the reflection of Blaine's computer screen and fixed his hair the best he could. "See you in class, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine watched him go, his hips swaying tantalizingly, and wished he could just quit his job and drag Kurt to bed. No one had ever made him feel like this, like his body couldn't get enough, like even the lightest touch could ignite a whole fire. No one had ever made his heart swell with just a look and a smile.

He was about to tell him he loved him when Kurt reached the door. He let him go. He could hold it back for a few more weeks. The words would sound so much better whispered into Kurt's ear while they were sitting in front of a beautiful lake, with nothing but time for each other stretched before them.

Less than a year ago, Blaine wouldn't have imagined having a future he would look forward to. But now, he honestly couldn't wait to start it with Kurt.

* * *

Even though it had seemed so far away, the end of the semester finally arrived. Kurt walked out of his last final feeling free and happy. He texted Blaine, who would be done with his own work later that day, to let him know he was heading to the apartment, where Sam was helping out with Max.

Everything suddenly seemed bright and full of possibilities. Summer laid ahead, and Kurt was looking forward to going away with Blaine, first to Ohio and then to New England, to rest and recharge batteries, but mostly to get a start on their future.

He was almost at Blaine's when his phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket, sure he would find Blaine's reply. Instead, it was Carole's number that flashed on the screen. He accepted the call.

"Hi Carole!" He said happily. "Please tell me you're not calling me about the food again. Blaine and Max will eat anything as long as there aren't any nuts in it, because Max is allergic. We'll get there on Thursday, and I can just go shopping with you, if you want…"

"Kurt," Carole's voice was so serious that Kurt stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and a woman collapsed against his back. "Kurt, honey, I think you need to get home as soon as you can."

"Why? What's going on?" Kurt asked, as sheer terror flooded him. "Where's Dad?"

"We're at the hospital, honey," she said, and he could tell she was struggling to remain calm. "It's his heart again. The doctor says… well, there's nothing else to do. He told me to call you. You should come."

"No," Kurt whispered. He felt as if someone had opened up his chest and emptied it. He was hollow and scared. "No. I'll get there, but it'll be fine…"

"Kurt," she interrupted, sad but firm. She didn't need to say anything else.

And just as Kurt had begun building the foundations of his own happiness, he helplessly watched it crumble right in front of him.


	24. Chapter 24

Blaine walked down the aisles of desks, watching everyone write almost frantically. There were a lot of tense shoulders and despaired looks. Most of them were looking at their finals like they were about to burst into flames. Blaine wasn't the only one in this room impatiently waiting for the start of summer break.

He had announced they had twenty minutes left a while ago, so he fished his phone out of his pocket to check the time. But as soon as he glanced at the screen, he forgot all about tests and students: he had ten missed calls from Kurt.

Feeling nervous, he walked to a corner of the room where he could call Kurt back without being too loud or bother anyone, and pressed the green button. Kurt picked up almost immediately, his voice high and desperate.

"Blaine," he managed to say, choking.

"Kurt, what's up? Where are you?" He asked nervously. Was it about Max? Or had his last final gone wrong? He knew how hard Kurt had studied. It just wasn't possible.

"I just got to your apartment," he explained, still sounding choked and strained. "Carole called. My Dad's in the hospital again. I need to get to Ohio. Blaine…"

His name floated in the air between them, at the same time a plea and a prayer. Blaine had never heard anyone say his name in that terrified tone before.

"Call Rachel, ask her if she can bring you a bag of clothes. Can you throw some of mine and Max's in a bag, too? I'll check for plane tickets on the cab," Blaine said, immediately shifting into what Kurt needed him to be. "I'll be there soon, sweetheart. Just hang in there. Tell Sam to stay with you until I get there."

By now he just didn't care if anyone was listening on to his conversation, or if he was disrupting the peace his students needed to finish their finals. He only knew he needed to be somewhere else, with Kurt in his arms so he could comfort him.

He said goodbye quickly after Kurt reassured him that he would be okay and that he would see him soon. Blaine ended the call and turned to his students. They looked at him with a mix of worry and annoyance.

"Sorry, guys. Family emergency," he said. He went to his desk and gathered his stuff. "Time's up. I have to run. If you could all quickly hand in your tests, that would be great."

There was a murmur of discontent but they all complied. Blaine stuffed all the tests in his bag carelessly, and was out of the room before anyone else.

There was only one thought in his head: _Kurt needs you. Get to Kurt._

Blaine ran like hell.

* * *

The next few hours were a blur. There wasn't a flight to Ohio until that evening, and Kurt was going out of his mind waiting, calling Carole every thirty minutes only to be told there were no news. Blaine had looked into train tickets, but there wasn't a train to Ohio until the next morning, so it was better to just wait for the flight. He purchased the tickets and watched Kurt helplessly: there was nothing else he could do.

Mercifully, their plane left on time. Max seemed to have absorbed their stress and bad energy because he wouldn't stop crying for most of the flight, earning them some nasty looks from the passengers around them. Blaine ignored them and tried to soothe his nephew, to no avail. He wondered if he should have left Max with Sam, but he hadn't been away from the baby for longer than a few hours since Cooper and Sara had died, and he wasn't about to start right now.

Finally, Kurt cuddled Max to his chest and shushed him, and Max stayed there whimpering and unhappy, but quiet. Kurt leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder. They were connected, a tiny little family supporting each other.

"Hey," Blaine whispered after a while, and smiled down at Kurt sweetly. "Did you realize that the semester ended about three hours ago? You're officially not my student anymore."

Kurt's lips lifted at the corners in the ghost of a smile. They had looked forward to this moment for months, and now that it had arrived, it looked nothing like they had imagined it. There hadn't been so much fear and uncertainty. There had only been hope.

After a bumpy landing that sent Max into tears again, they walked out of the plane and into the crowded airport. Blaine could feel Kurt buzzing next to him, all anxiety, so he guided him towards a waiting area and gently pushed him down on an empty seat. He kneeled in front of him so he could look at his eyes.

"Kurt," Blaine said softly. "Stay right here, okay? Stay with Max and the bags. I'll go rent a car and we'll be on our way soon. Will you be okay?"

"Yes, yes," Kurt assured him, eagerly. "Just please hurry."

"I will, sweetheart. I'll be right back," Blaine said, and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before he disappeared into the crowd.

Max glanced up at him, curiously. He seemed terribly uncomfortable and ready to go back home. Kurt felt a little guilty at dragging him along, but knew Blaine wouldn't have left him at home, and Kurt wasn't sure he could go through this again without Blaine keeping him sane and right by his side.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" He asked Max.

A woman walked by holding a Yorkshire dog in her arms, the small dog yapping loudly. Max turned towards it, and a smile appeared on his face, delighted.

"Puppy," he said, pointing at it. "Puppy, Urt."

"That's right," Kurt agreed, and opened his bag to get his phone. "That's a cute little puppy."

Max seemed to need to stretch his legs, so Kurt let him stand next to him as he dialed Carole's number. He waited impatiently until she picked up.

"Hi Kurt."

"Hey, Carole. We're at the airport," he said. "Blaine's getting a car, so we should be there soon. How's Dad?"

There was a pause so long that Kurt thought it would never end. A part of him realized what would be Carole's next words, and suddenly he wished she would just stay quiet, don't ever say anything, so he could live in this limbo in the middle of an airport, with Max's little hand on his knee.

"He's gone," she replied, and now Kurt could hear the tears in her voice, clear as a spring morning and yet dark like the coldest winter night. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

His chest grew tight. He knew he was breathing but somehow the air wasn't reaching his lungs. His hands began to shake, making it hard to hold the phone. He felt dizzy and sick and wrong, like someone had taken out all his vital organs and then placed them back into his body in any order but the right one.

_He's gone, he's gone, he's gone._

"No," he said, and even his voice didn't sound like his own. "No, I haven't… I haven't gotten there yet. I haven't… Carole, _no_."

"It just happened, like ten minutes ago," Carole said, and every word was like she was stabbing Kurt. "I was about to call you, but I wasn't sure if you were off the plane yet and I… god, Kurt, I didn't know how to tell you."

"No," Kurt repeated, and he wondered if that was the only word he would be able to utter for the rest of his days.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she murmured.

Kurt wanted to say a million things, but he couldn't. He looked helplessly around the airport, at a group of teenagers chatting excitedly, at a kid wearing Mickey Mouse ears and clearly on his way back from Disney. There was a couple smiling and holding each other, in love, like they were about to leave on their honeymoon. There was an old man with a bouquet of flowers, telling the woman sitting next to him that he was waiting for his daughter, who had been abroad for two years.

He looked down at Max, who was staring right back at him, quiet and serious, like he understood exactly how broken Kurt felt. Kurt held his little hand in his.

A group of Asian tourists finally moved their luggage and cleared the area in front of Kurt, and he could see Blaine returning. Even from a distance, Blaine must have been able to see the completely despaired look on Kurt's face, because he suddenly sprang into a jog and was next to them in a matter of seconds.

Kurt couldn't speak. Shaking his head as the tears filled his eyes and the sobs clawed their way out of his throat, he shoved the phone into Blaine's hands.

Blaine kneeled in front of Kurt, and held his hand as he put the phone to his ear. "Carole, this is Blaine." There was a pause as Carole spoke, but no surprise in Blaine's eyes when he heard the news. "I'm so sorry, Carole. Are you okay? Is anyone there with you?"

Kurt glanced around the airport, shocked that a black hole hadn't opened up in the middle of the waiting area. He felt like he was being sucked into one, but everyone around him didn't seem to notice. Didn't they know the world was suddenly emptier, sadder, less bright, less kind?

"Okay, we'll be there as soon as possible," Blaine answered, his voice calm, like a balm for the soul. "Of course. Of course I will," his whiskey eyes were fixed on Kurt as he talked. "Don't worry about it. Just take care of yourself and wait for us, alright?"

When he ended the call, he placed the phone carefully on the empty seat next to Kurt and just looked at him, his gaze full of everything he wanted to say. Kurt covered his face with his hands and cried into them, not able to hold it back any longer.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine whispered. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"He can't be gone," Kurt said at last. "He can't. I'm not there yet. We didn't… I couldn't…"

"I know," Blaine murmured, and wrapped his arms around him. "I know."

Max seemed a little spooked at seeing Kurt so upset, so he began to cry too. "Urt?" He said, like he wasn't sure if this sad man was the same one he loved, the same one who always had a smile for him.

"Hey cutie," Kurt murmured, drying his tears hastily, but in vain, because they were replaced by fresh ones. He reached for Max and sat him in his lap. "It's okay, Max."

"What do you need, Kurt?" Blaine asked quietly, cupping his cheek in his hand. His eyes were earnest and open, and Kurt was so grateful he was here with him. "Do you need some water? Do you want me to get you something?"

"Let's just go," Kurt said. "Carole is there all alone, I don't… she shouldn't be alone."

"Okay," Blaine nodded. He grabbed the bags and stood up.

Kurt had imagined the drive to the hospital would be much different. He had expected to rush, to ask Blaine to go a little faster, because his father needed him and he had to be there for him. But now the urgency was gone, and it was replaced by the biggest sadness, by a sense of helplessness that Kurt had only felt once before, when Finn had died.

Blaine kept glancing at him, as if checking he wasn't falling to pieces in the seat next to him. Kurt couldn't look at him, and just stared out the window. If he looked at Blaine, if he found any pity there, he truly would fall to pieces. He still couldn't understand why this was happening. He couldn't understand why the universe could be so cruel as to take his father away from him without even giving them a chance to say goodbye.

He never got the chance to say goodbye. Not to his Mom, not to Finn, and now not to his Dad.

Would his Dad have fought harder if Kurt had been there holding his hand and telling him just how much he still needed him? Would he still be here if Kurt hadn't taken so long getting to Ohio?

_You can't go, there's so much you need to see yet._

_I'm graduating next year, how is it possible that you won't be here to see it?_

_You've worked so hard your entire life to make sure I was happy and safe and successful and now you won't get to see me become all of that and more?_

_I'm in love with the most wonderful man on Earth and you were supposed to walk me down the aisle and into his arms._

Kurt closed his eyes tightly and pressed his forehead against the cold glass of the window. He didn't move again for the remainder of the ride.

* * *

Carole was waiting for them at the hospital lobby. She was sitting with her head resting against the wall behind her, her eyes closed, looking exhausted. Blaine watched as Kurt approached her, how they seemed to melt into each other as they hugged, holding tightly as if scared they were going to keep losing people if they let go. Blaine stood apart for a moment, allowing them some privacy, wishing there was something he could do to mend their broken hearts, but knowing better than anyone that there were wounds no one could heal.

Once they parted, Kurt walked away a few steps, his back to them. Blaine could see his shoulders shaking before Carole came over to him.

"Hi Blaine," she said with a sad smile. "It's so nice of you to come all the way here again."

"Of course I came," he said, and held her with his free arm, Max clinging to his other side. "I am so sorry, Carole."

"Me too, honey," she replied, pulling away. She caressed Max's back in greeting. "Poor cutie. He looks upset."

"He'll be fine. He's strong, aren't you, Max?" Blaine said, turning to his nephew and bouncing him a little. Max's eyes were fixed on Kurt, as if he was trying to understand what was wrong.

Kurt walked back to them. His cheeks were wet with tears, his eyes too bright. "What happened, Carole?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, Kurt. I left him alone for twenty minutes, went to the store, and when I came back, he was on the kitchen floor. I called 911, but by the time we got here, there wasn't anything the doctors could do. His heart rate was practically non-existent. They had to hook him up to a respirator. But he looked bad, wasn't responding…"

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself. Blaine expected him to protest, to fight against reality and say his Dad wouldn't let something as trivial as a heart attack stop him. He expected Kurt to demand to see the doctor so he could get all the answers he needed.

Instead, he said nothing.

Carole sighed. She looked ten years older than the last time Blaine had seen her. "God, there's so much to do. So many people to call... all the paperwork…"

"I don't even know what we are supposed to do," Kurt admitted, and he, unlike Carole, looked like a child, lost and innocent in the face of tragedy.

"I think you both need some rest," Blaine said. "I can take care of the paperwork, and making all the calls you need. You two shouldn't have to worry about a thing."

"Blaine, you don't have to…" Carole started, but Blaine placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I want to. I want to help," he assured her. "So please, let me. I'm here for you."

Carole seemed relieved. Kurt still looked completely lost.

They walked out of the hospital and back to the car, this time with Carole on tow. She sat on the backseat with Max, and Blaine glanced at Kurt quickly before turning the engine on. But Kurt was already staring out the window, and he seemed a million miles away.

"Have you eaten anything, Carole?" Blaine asked as he drove out of the parking lot.

"Not since lunch," she replied. "But I'm fine, Blaine. Don't you worry about that."

"Kurt, sweetheart, you haven't eaten since breakfast either," Blaine said, his voice soft, as if he was talking to a baby animal that would easily startle if he raised his voice. "Is there anywhere we can pick up some food?"

"I'm not hungry," Kurt murmured. "As long as there's something for Max at the house, we'll be fine."

"I've already been buying stuff for Max, since you were going to be here next week anyway…" Carole said, and the plans they had made seemed so distant now, like they belonged to a different life altogether. "And there should be enough for us, as well. Blaine's right, Kurt. You need to eat."

Kurt didn't say anything.

The house was dark and quiet when they arrived. As soon as the front door was opened, Kurt headed up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Blaine understood his need to be alone, but it still concerned him. He wanted to call after him. He wanted to follow him, hold him and promise him everything would be alright.

But he knew better than to make empty promises.

They were no strangers to loss and heartbreak.

"God, that boy," Carole whispered, her eyes fixed on the spot where Kurt had disappeared. "I always knew this would be too hard on him. Come on, Blaine, let's fix Max some dinner."

"I can do it, Carole. Just tell me where everything is, and I'll take care of it. You can go to bed, if you want," he said, letting Max down, who immediately grabbed onto his pants and followed him.

"I should start calling the family," she said, and her tone made it clear there was nothing she wanted to do less. "And get the funeral arrangements ready…"

Blaine grabbed her hand. He wished he could have met this woman in different circumstances, but their first two encounters had been due to Burt ending in the hospital. "You're dealing with enough. I'll take care of the funeral arrangements and call whoever you want me to. That's why I'm here, to help you and Kurt. So whatever you need me to do, just say the word, and I'm on it."

Carole smiled at him, just the ghost of a smile. "I'm so happy Kurt has you. Okay, I really appreciate it, Blaine. But I think I should call the family myself."

"Alright," Blaine agreed.

Carole showed him where the food she had bought for Max was. Blaine grabbed a bag of star-shaped chicken nuggets and a few veggies. He gave Max his backpack, who immediately emptied it on the kitchen floor to look for his toys, and got to work, cutting up the veggies in sticks and baking the nuggets. He could hear Carole speaking softly in the living room, calling her relatives, Burt's friends, and everyone else who needed to know.

While Max ate, Blaine called the funeral home and made the arrangements for the next day. He paid attention to any sound that may come from upstairs, waiting to see if Kurt came back down, but he didn't.

Carole walked back into the kitchen, eyes red from crying, when Max was almost done eating. "Well, that's done. His best friend and my sister will take care of calling anyone I forgot about."

"I already called the funerary," Blaine said. "Should I order flowers? What would you like, Carole?"

"No, no flowers," Carole sighed. "He wouldn't want that. He'd say it was a waste. But I do want to get a small bouquet for the cemetery." She must have read the question in Blaine's face. "He'll be buried with Elizabeth, you know, Kurt's mom. Finn and Christopher, my first husband, are nearby. So they can all be together now."

God, the pain in her voice was killing him. He understood it so intimately, and yet he wished he could absorb it all for himself, all of her pain, and especially all of Kurt's.

"I'm sorry," he said. "And I know it sounds so useless to hear that. I wish there was more I could do."

"Oh, honey, you're being wonderful," she said, patting his hand.

Max dropped the carrot stick he had been chewing on and looked up at his uncle. "Baine, Urt?"

"He's upstairs, kiddo. We'll go see him after you're done with dinner," Blaine explained, and Max frowned like he wasn't okay with that and wanted to be taken to Kurt right now. "Actually, I'd like to check on him. Would you mind watching Max for a moment? I'll be right back."

"Of course, go ahead," Carole said.

Kurt's bedroom door was closed, just as Blaine had expected to find it. He knocked softly and waited, but there was no response. He knocked a second time.

"Kurt?" He said. "Sweetheart, it's me. Can I please come in? Kurt?"

Worried, and wondering if Kurt had fallen asleep, Blaine opened the door quietly and looked inside the room. Kurt hadn't bothered turning any lights on either, but the light coming from the street through the windows fell right on the bed. Blaine walked inside and sat on the edge of the mattress. He pressed his hand to Kurt's back, and found it was shaking with repressed sobs.

Like shocked back into movement by Blaine's touch, Kurt suddenly sat up and threw himself into Blaine's arms, where he cried so desperately that Blaine was surprised he didn't fall into pieces. There were a million little comforts that Blaine wanted to whisper in his ear, but he didn't. He knew whatever he said would sound hollow, meaningless.

After a while, Kurt pulled away, visibly exhausted and drained. "God, I shouldn't be hiding here. I should be downstairs with Carole. How is she?"

"Understandably sad, but she's strong. One look at her and you can tell," Blaine replied, rubbing Kurt's back slowly, letting him lean against him. "Kurt, I've been arranging things for the funeral. Is there anything you would like? Anything your Dad ever mentioned to you?"

Kurt shook his head. "Not really. He wanted to be buried with my Mom, but that's about it. I never really… I never really wanted to talk about those things with him. If he let any instructions, he gave them to Carole."

"Yeah, she already told me."

"I can't believe this is happening," Kurt sniffed, and reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand. "I can't believe I didn't make it on time. I can't believe I didn't get to talk to him one last time…" He shook his head again, and then looked up at Blaine, his eyes almost grey and shining with tears. "Do you know what our last conversation was about? He texted me to ask me how to get pizza sauce stains off a shirt, and all I told him was that he shouldn't even be eating pizza in the first place." A little sob escaped from Kurt's throat. "Can you believe it? The last thing I told him was the stupidest little reprimand in the whole world. I didn't even give him the answer he needed. I just treated him like he was a naughty kid who didn't do anything right."

"Kurt, your Dad knew how much you loved him," Blaine said. "He never doubted that for a second. I've never met anyone who had that kind of relationship with their parents. What you two had was so unique."

"I should have been here," Kurt whispered.

Blaine kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry, love. I really am."

Kurt swallowed, like it was physically challenging to hold back his sobs. "Where's Max?"

"He was finishing up dinner. I left him with Carole for a moment," he replied. "I should go get him. Do you want something to eat? I made more than enough chicken nuggets."

"I'm not hungry," Kurt said. "But can you and Max stay here with me? I really want to be with you guys."

"Of course, Kurt. We're not going anywhere," Blaine said, and meant it more than he had ever meant anything in his life.


	25. Chapter 25

The next morning, the sky was clear and the sun was so bright, it seemed like it was mocking them. How could the world look so beautiful when Burt Hummel was no longer in it? Kurt had expected dark clouds, heavy rain, not sunshine.

They all piled up into the rental car. Kurt did his best not to glance at the truck sitting on the driveway. He and his Dad had shared so many conversations in that truck, so many happy moments, and a good batch of sad ones, too. He thought about sitting at the wheel, with the windows and doors closed, so he could inhale deeply and smell his Dad again: that scent of leather, car oil, and aftershave. His heart shrunk a little in his chest.

When they arrived at the cemetery, Kurt was surprised to see Rachel, Sam and Mercedes, standing together near the entrance. He hadn't even thought of calling any of his friends last night. As soon as he was out of the car, Rachel's arms were around him.

There were a lot of his Dad's friends and extended family waiting there for him and Carole, and soon he was lost in a crowd of hugs and well-meaning words that made his head spin. He looked over someone's shoulder, trying to find Blaine, and saw he was passing Max to Sam.

Kurt stood in front of what used to be only his Mom's grave, Carole on one side, Blaine on the other, Rachel and Mercedes behind him. Sam stood apart, near the cars, with Max. His support system. The little family he had built for himself in New York, helping him say goodbye to the man who had made him who he was, the man he owed everything to.

It was a short ceremony, and later Kurt wouldn't remember much of it. He couldn't listen to the words being said about his Dad, words adorned for the occasion. No one would talk about the real things, the things that made Burt Hummel who he was. He was only conscious of the weight of Blaine's arm around him, holding him steady. He wasn't sure if he would have remained on his feet without him.

Blaine handed him a red rose. He was suddenly aware that everyone was looking at him, as if expecting something from him. It didn't take him long to catch up: he had been at too many funerals in his life. He stepped forward and looked down.

He didn't want to look at the casket. He couldn't think of his Dad inside it. He couldn't think of anything at all. He threw the rose, and reached for Blaine's hand, as if afraid he would fall in too, never to get out again.

Blaine kissed his temple and held him close. Kurt kept his eyes shut and waited for everything to be over.

People began to trickle out of the cemetery shortly after. He had to stay behind, once again receiving hugs and pats on the back, condolences. There were family members who he had never seen or hadn't been in touch with for years. Some didn't even approach him. Kurt knew his Dad had cut off some of his family from his life when Kurt came out and they didn't agree with his _life choices_. Kurt still remembered listening to his Dad angrily yell into the phone that he was proud of his son and if anyone had a problem with it, they could look for somewhere else to spend Christmas from now on.

His Dad had never doubted or regretted losing anyone as long as it meant Kurt was happier and safer.

Rachel dried her eyes and kissed Kurt's cheek. She didn't say anything. She didn't say _I'm sorry_. She didn't say _He will be missed_. She didn't say any of the cliché words Kurt had heard a million times. She knew better than that. She understood him in a deeper level. Instead, she gave his hand a firm squeeze and said: "I think I'm going to visit Finn, since we're here. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Kurt said and tried to find a smile for her. "Go ahead."

"I'll go with you, Rachel," Carole wrapped her arm around Rachel's shoulders. "If you don't mind the company."

They walked away together. Mercedes also kissed Kurt's cheek, before going towards Sam. Blaine glanced at Kurt, concerned.

"Do you want to stay here a little longer? Would you like some privacy?" He asked.

Kurt closed his eyes again. He could smell the earth and the grass all around him. "No, I… I can't."

"It's okay," Blaine reassured him, always so attentive, always so wonderful. His hand found Kurt's, and their fingers tangled automatically, like it was the only natural thing to do. They began to walk towards where Sam, Mercedes and Max were waiting for them. Max immediately ran towards them, almost tripping with a tree root sticking out of the ground. "Woah! Careful there, buddy."

"Urt, Urt, Urt," Max said, extending his arms. "Up, Urt."

A little but authentic smile appeared on Kurt's face. He lifted Max and cuddled him close. He looked at Sam and Mercedes. "You two… thank you so much for coming. You really didn't have to."

"Of course we came," Mercedes said, like it was crazy to even suggest they wouldn't.

They stood under a tree and waited for Carole and Rachel. Kurt knew people would be coming over to his house, eager to share memories of Burt and spend time with him and Carole, but he wasn't looking forward to it. Before the day was over, people would go from tears to sharing funny stories about Burt, and they would all be smiling and laughing, and soon would move on to talking about things that had nothing to do with him, like what their kids were up to or the last game of their favorite football team.

They would go home at the end of the day, not feeling sad that Burt was gone anymore, while Kurt and Carole would keep the heartbreak and the house that grew emptier and emptier with every new loss.

Blaine's arm was steady around him, rooting him. Maybe he would have flown away if Blaine wasn't there. But Blaine held him, contained him, comforted him in the only was he knew how. Blaine understood what he was going through. Blaine knew what it felt like when the most important person in your life was gone.

He understood what it was like when your whole life turned on its axis and wasn't the same anymore.

* * *

Silence fell on the house like a blanket, once everyone else was gone. Kurt and Carole had been exhausted, and had already gone upstairs to bed, but Blaine was in the kitchen, holding Max and trying to get him to calm down.

It had been a difficult day for Max, full of so many strangers, old ladies pinching his cheeks, kids running around him, adults cooing at him and wanting to know who he was. It had also been difficult for Blaine, who had had to introduce himself to most of Kurt's family and receive varying grades of acceptance.

"Who are you again?" One of Kurt's uncles asked at one point, when Blaine handed him a cup of coffee.

"I'm Blaine. I'm Kurt's boyfriend," he'd said, and realized it was the first time he used that word, and wished he could give himself the time to embrace it and enjoy it.

The man had only nodded and turned away to talk to one of Carole and Burt's neighbors, like Blaine hadn't even been there in the first place.

Others had been a hell of a lot more accepting, mostly Burt's friends. Tony Lawrence, his best friend from high school who had been working at the garage with Burt since the first day, clapped Blaine on the back and said: "I've heard a lot about you. Burt said you make Kurt happy. I'm glad you're here for him."

Some even asked if Max was their son. Blaine avoided giving many details about that.

Now, as he tried to get Max to relax and stop fussing, he wondered what it would have been like a week from now, when he, Max and Kurt arrived to spend a few days with the Hummels as originally planned. Would have Burt truly liked him? Would he have approved of his son's unusual relationship once he got to know Blaine?

But now that would never happen.

Blaine thought of Kurt, of how entirely defeated he had looked that day. Blaine had seen him stress, worry, and get upset about many things in the past few months, but he had never seen him give up like that, like there was no reason to keep pushing forward. Kurt had always been, even when he was having a hard time, such a spirited person. He always found a reason to keep fighting, always wanted to strive and reach for better things. But now it was like the light inside of him had gone out.

And Blaine understood. When Cooper had died, everything had fallen on him like an avalanche. There had been moments when he didn't know if he would ever break the surface to breathe again.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Carole, who walked into the kitchen, wrapped in a robe and looking exhausted.

"Poor little Max. Is he okay?" She asked, as she went to the fridge and open it to get a bottle of water.

Blaine bounced his nephew a little bit. "He will be. It was a very odd day for him." He watched her as she took a seat at the kitchen table. "Can't sleep?"

"The bed's too big," she said with a sad little smile. "I guess it'll take some getting used to."

"Is there anything I can do? We could set up a mattress somewhere?" He asked. He didn't dare suggest Finn's room.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just need a moment."

Max burrowed his face into the crook of Blaine's neck, his little hands in fists.

"You were so wonderful to us today, Blaine," Carole said. "You didn't have to go through all the trouble of dealing with our crazy family or taking over all the arrangements."

"I wanted to," Blaine replied, readjusting Max in his arms. "I needed to do something for Kurt and for you."

Carole sighed. "How is Kurt doing? I barely could spend time with him today. I should have been there for him."

"You were busy, and you're grieving too, Carole," he murmured. Max was beginning to quiet down a bit. "He's not doing all that well. I've never seen him like this. I know it's understandable, but… you know, it still pains me to see him so lost, so broken. What he and his Dad had was so special."

"It really was," Carole nodded slowly. "Burt was such a great father. He was a great father to Finn, too. I still remember when I first started dating him, and Finn wasn't too thrilled about it. But Burt won him over, taking him to football games, letting him talk about girls and sports in a way he never could with me. They got so close, it was beautiful to watch. And Kurt… well, they had been alone for so long before I married Burt. They were a tiny family, but a tight one. Kurt leaned on him so much when things were difficult at school, especially after he came out."

"He was lucky to have him," Blaine said, unable to avoid the wistfulness that crept into his voice, remembering his own parents.

Carole looked at him quizzically, as if inviting him to tell her more, but Blaine knew it was not the right time.

"I'm worried about him," he admitted after a few seconds of silence. "I'm scared he won't be able to move on from this kind of pain. I know he's strong. God, he must be the strongest person I've ever met. But losing that bond… I can't even imagine what that must feel like. I had a similar relationship with my brother, Cooper. But there's something so much deeper about what Kurt and Burt had."

"It will be definitely difficult," Carole said, wrapping her hands around her water bottle. "He'll need you, and Max, and me, and everyone else to give him time to heal. But also he'll need us not to give up on him. You know, I was with Burt practically the whole time. I saw him the last few days. He didn't look good. His health had been bad for a very long time. And I hate that I lost him, but I knew it was going to happen, sooner rather than later. I had time to prepare, but Kurt didn't. Kurt only saw him every few months, and most of those times Burt tried to look like everything was fine, because he wanted to enjoy time with his son without worrying him. I know they had some sort of conversation when Kurt was here for Christmas, but I don't know exactly what they said to each other."

"He told me Burt wasn't doing okay," Blaine said, remembering the conversation they'd had on New Year's Eve. "And then he had that heart attack, and I think it somehow made things even more real for him, but still he couldn't accept the idea of losing him."

"We're never ready," Carole whispered, and there was old pain in her voice. "I have a little practice, you know. This is the second time I go through this. First Christopher, now Burt. Losing your husband… well, it's hard to put your life back together after that. But losing your child…" She shook her head, and Blaine saw the tears gathering in her eyes. "That's something I'll never come back from."

Blaine looked down at Max, who had finally fallen asleep in his arms. Max wasn't his son, but he loved him as if he was. He raised him as if he was. He couldn't imagine losing him. He couldn't even begin to fathom the grieve Carole must have felt losing Finn, what it still cost her every single day.

"You know as well as I do how easy it is to give up after someone you love dies," Carole said. "Please don't let Kurt give up. Please remind him there's so much more worth living for." She stood up, slowly. "I would do it myself, but… it may take me a while to remember as well."

"I won't ever let him give up," Blaine said fiercely. "I haven't even told him this yet, but… Carole, I love him. I love him more than I've ever thought I could love. He and Max are everything to me, and I… I wish I could have told Burt this, but I plan to take care of him and make him happy for many, many years to come."

Carole paused at the doorway and smiled at Blaine. "Burt would have loved that."

Even though he hadn't known Burt well, Blaine knew she was right.

* * *

Sam, Rachel and Mercedes went back to New York the following day, but Blaine and Max stayed. For a day or two, nothing extraordinary happened: mostly they hung out around the house, trying to keep sadness at bay, and failing most of the time.

Blaine made sure there was always food in case Kurt wanted to eat, though he kept losing his appetite after three or four bites. It looked like holding Max was the only thing that made him smile even briefly, so Blaine made them spend as much time together as possible, and hoped his nephew was the kind of medicine Kurt's heart needed.

Kurt didn't talk much. He seemed to be trying to figure something out, and Blaine gave him all the space he could. At night, Kurt held on tight to him, his head on Blaine's chest, and let him hold him until he fell asleep. He seemed to be clinging to him as if letting go meant the world around him would crumble. Blaine had no trouble at all holding him for as long as Kurt needed him to. He had no trouble being whatever Kurt needed him to be, until he was healed enough to stand for himself and go back to being the fabulous and lively man Blaine had always known and loved.

Four days after the funeral, Blaine walked into Kurt's room at night, toweling his hair dry, wearing pajamas and ready to collapse in bed next to Kurt. Max was already asleep on the small cot next to the bed, which Blaine had dragged from the basement a couple of days ago. Kurt was sitting against the headboard, looking thoughtful. Usually, when Blaine came into the room at night, Kurt was already under the covers, his back to the door, staring out the window.

"Hey," Blaine said, glad there was some change. "The water pressure here is so divine, I think I might be ready to give up New York altogether."

Kurt's lips moved as if he was trying to smile, but didn't. "You must be exhausted of running around all day taking care of all of us. You really shouldn't have to. I'm sorry I haven't been more help."

Blaine sat on the bed, dropped the towel on his lap and reached for Kurt's hand. "Kurt, don't be silly. You know I understand what you're going through. I wouldn't expect you to do anything differently. Just take your time, and I'll be here to help you as much as I can."

Kurt sighed. "I actually think you should go back to New York."

Blaine blinked in confusion. That was the last thing he expected. "What?"

"I'm going to need some time," Kurt said slowly. "There's so much to do here, so many things that need closure. Carole will need some help, and there's the garage, and the hospital bills…"

"I still don't understand why that means I have to leave," Blaine replied, trying to sound reasonable. "Kurt, don't do the same thing you did last time. There's no need for it now. I can be here for you."

"I promise, that's not what I'm doing," Kurt said, squeezing Blaine's hand. "Trust me, I wish things were different. But you can't stay here forever. Max can't stay here forever."

"You won't stay here forever," Blaine said, looking at him meaningfully. "Don't make it sound like you will."

"Look, I don't know what I'm going to do." Kurt seemed even more tired than he had the past few days. "All I know is that there is stuff I need to take care of. I can't just dump everything on Carole. And I need to sort out some things for myself as well. You know what it's like to not get any closure, to just lose someone out of the blue. I think I need to spend some time here, and think about my Dad, and try to be okay with this very not okay thing."

"I can respect that," Blaine said, nodding slowly, wearily. "I still don't get why it sounds like you're breaking up with me, though."

"I'm not," Kurt said, closing his eyes and sighing again. "I just need some time, Blaine. That's all."

Blaine felt a kind of tightness in his chest that meant he wasn't all that sure Kurt was saying the truth. The kind of tightness that anticipated heartbreak. "Kurt, I want you to deal with this however you think will be best for you. I'm just worried you're making the wrong decision for the wrong reasons."

"Please," Kurt whispered, and that word nearly brought Blaine to tears. "This is no place for Max right now. He's absorbing all the sadness from me and Carole. And I really do need to deal with stuff, especially the garage. And I need to spend time with Carole. She's lost two husbands and a son. I can't even begin to try to understand what she must feel."

"So what you're saying is that you need family time," Blaine murmured. It stung. It stung so badly he could hardly breathe. "I get it. I'll book a flight back in the morning. But Kurt… the moment you want us here, you call me, and I'll be on the first plane back. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Kurt said, and leaned in to kiss Blaine's lips. He pressed their foreheads together. "Don't think I want to be apart from you. That's not what this is about. I just really need time to figure out some things."

"Okay," Blaine said, and held him tight against him.

It still felt like a break up.


	26. Chapter 26

Kurt turned the key on the lock and opened the door. He was immediately drowned in the familiar scents of the garage: motor oil, leather, rubber, the rust of old tools. It hit him like a freight train, and just like with everything else, it made him miss his Dad so much his chest hurt.

It had been a while since he had come here. He vaguely remembered coming over to help his Dad during one of his summer breaks, fresh back from New York, and how small everything had looked in comparison with the blinding city.

Less vaguely, he remembered his childhood, spent here and in his Dad's office, playing amongst cars, helping his Dad with the easiest tasks, doing his homework at his desk. He remembered the friendless years, when he was too scared of coming out, when everyone at school knew anyway, when he was shoved and sneered at on a daily basis, and how he always found refuge here, watching his Dad work, reading magazines behind the counter and pretending nothing ever affected him.

He remembered working here during the summers, helping his Dad and saving money for whatever new fashion trend he was obsessed with. He remembered Finn, oil-stained overall, watching Burt teach him the ropes of the business with wide eyes, like he couldn't believe he would take the time to teach some dumb kid this. He remembered seeing Finn realize that hey, he wasn't some dumb kid, he was Burt's son, just like Kurt, in every way except in blood.

His footsteps echoed in the empty garage. It was early, and most of the employees wouldn't get here for another thirty minutes, at least. He knew Tony had been managing everything the past few months, when his Dad wasn't well enough to work. It must have killed Burt to sit behind a desk and let his lifelong work on someone else's hands.

Kurt went into the office, opened the window to let in some breeze, and sat behind the desk. The computer was old (he'd told his Dad to replace it a million times, but Burt never listened), and there were stacks of papers in no logical order all over the wooden surface. Invoices, budgets, lists of parts…

He held onto the armrests a little tighter than necessary. Not that long ago, after his Dad had been in the hospital during the last summer, Kurt had been scared of not being able to get a job, of not being able to afford college, of not being able to help out with hospital bills. He had been scared that he would have to give up New York and come back, work here at the garage, help his parents get back on their feet.

What a silly fear that had been. What he should have been scared of all along was losing his father.

What did it matter if he got stuck in Ohio, as long as his Dad was alive and well? He would have stayed here forever, if it meant he had him right by his side.

And now… now he was in Ohio, but there was nothing but emptiness around him. All he had left were the memories, and this old garage.

The sign out front said _Hummel and Sons, tires and lube_. How despairing it was to think that, of the three people that sign referenced, there was only one left.

* * *

It had been a while since Max had been in such a foul mood.

Blaine looked apologetically at the woman sitting across from him and bounced Max a little on his knee. "I'm sorry. He's very weary of strangers. That's why it makes it a little hard to find a good match for him."

"I understand," she said. Blaine glanced briefly at the résumé in front of him to check her name again. Rebecca. He had interviewed so many people already that they all got confused in his head. "Maybe if I hold him and show him I'm no threat?" She proposed.

Blaine didn't really think that was a good idea, but he didn't want to be rude. And, deep down inside, he was hoping for a miracle. He lifted Max and tried to pass him over to her. Max kicked and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, screaming like he was being murdered.

Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry, again. I don't think this is gonna work out."

Most of his interviews ended with that same phrase. Nothing seemed to be working out. But he knew he needed to find a new nanny for Max, because whatever happened, Kurt couldn't keep working for him.

 _Whatever happened_. Blaine closed his eyes bitterly. There were two options: Kurt couldn't keep working for him because they were together and it was too weird, or Kurt couldn't keep working for him because he decided to stay in Ohio, and neither he nor Max would ever see him again.

When Blaine had come back to New York a couple of weeks ago, he had truly believed that what Kurt needed was some time, to put his family affairs in order, help Carole, and get some closure. But now he wasn't so sure. They had exchanged a few texts, and everything Kurt said seemed to make it more and more obvious that he was settling down there. He had begun going to the garage, and instead of making it sound like he was getting ready to sell it or choose someone who could manage it for the family, it seemed like he was taking charge.

Blaine's heart broke every time he thought about it, but he knew he couldn't ask Kurt to do anything differently. He knew he needed to let Kurt do whatever was best for him. Even if it meant they never got to be together again.

"Max, I need you to be a little more flexible here," Blaine told him when Rebecca was gone. Max sat on the floor and looked up at him reproachfully. "We need to find you a new nanny. I know no one's going to be as perfect as Kurt, but…"

"Bad Baine," Max said, his little fists angrily at his sides. "I want Urt."

That was Max's first complete sentence. _I want Kurt_.

Blaine felt increasingly tired. He leaned against the closed door and looked at his nephew, feeling helpless. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

* * *

Twirling spaghetti absently, Kurt studied Carole's face quickly. "How are you doing?"

Carole gave him a little smile. "I've told you, Kurt, I'm fine." She poured some lemonade for the both of them. "What about you? You look tired. Maybe you shouldn't go to the garage tomorrow. You can stay home, rest a little."

Kurt shook his head, as his phone buzzed on the table, next to his plate. "We're understaffed. I hadn't realized how many people Dad had to let go the past couple of years. Tony can't handle everything by himself. And the office is a mess, none of the paperwork makes sense. I'm refiling everything."

It was a text from Blaine: _You won't ever guess who came for an interview today._

"Still, I think you deserve to take a day off," Carole insisted. She glanced at Kurt's phone, and then back at his face. "Have you talked to Blaine lately?"

Kurt typed a reply: _Who?_ Then put his phone down and reached for his fork again. "I'm texting him right now."

"How is he doing? Will he be coming back soon? Or are you going back to New York?" She asked.

"He's good, busy. He's interviewing new nannies for Max, and I don't envy him. Max doesn't seem to like any of the candidates so far," Kurt explained, but didn't answer the last two questions. Carole didn't miss that.

"You told us a while ago that you wanted to find a new job next Fall," she said. "Have you started looking?"

"No," he said. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet."

His phone buzzed again: _Remember your good friend Noah?_

Kurt frowned, and replied: _Really? I thought he had been with the same family for years. Did Max like him?_

Carole leaned over the table to get a good look at him. "Kurt. What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, puzzled. Blaine's new text said: _He didn't particularly like him, no. But you should have seen the look on Noah's face when I opened the door and he saw me. What did you tell him about me?_

 _The truth_ , Kurt typed.

"I mean putting your life on hold," Carole said, looking concerned. "Don't think I haven't realized that you keep avoiding answering anything about what you will do next semester. Blaine didn't look like he wanted to leave, and now you won't tell me if he'll be back. And it looks like you're treating things at the garage a little bit too permanently. What is going on?"

"Would it be that bad?" Kurt murmured. She seemed confused. "I mean, if I stayed. If I took over the garage. Dad always dreamed of leaving it to me. When I started talking about New York, he didn't mention it again, and then he talked about leaving it to Finn. I'm the only one left."

"Oh Kurt," Carole sighed sadly. "Honey, you can't stay here. Your whole life is in New York. Lima would eat at you, waste you away. You know this is not where you can find your happiness."

"I'm not going to throw away Dad's hard work. Do you know how much he had to sacrifice for that garage? When he first opened it, he had just married my Mom…"

"I'm not saying you need to throw it away," Carole said gently, patting his hand. "But he would be so upset if he knew you're sacrificing _yourself_ for it. He always knew how far you could go. He always knew you didn't belong here. No one expects you to stay and…"

"Please, I don't want to talk about it right now," Kurt said, eyes fixed on his plate, twirling and twirling spaghetti. He had no appetite.

It looked like Carole wanted to say something else, but then Kurt's phone buzzed again, and he had an excuse to pretend he didn't notice.

Blaine's text said: _I miss you_.

Kurt felt his chest tighten. He put the phone back on the table, screen facing down. He wanted to tell Blaine he missed him too, that he woke every morning and reached across the bed for him before he remembered they were miles apart. He wanted to tell him that he thought of him and Max constantly, but that he didn't know what to do. He felt divided, sad, and consumed.

He didn't want to leave Carole alone.

He didn't want to throw his Dad's legacy away.

He didn't want to lose the only connection to his Dad he had left.

He didn't want to lose Blaine or the future they could build together.

He didn't want to miss Max growing up.

He didn't want to go back to New York.

He didn't want to stay in Lima.

* * *

On the first anniversary of Cooper and Sara's death, it rained.

Blaine opened his eyes to a grey morning, a lightning brightening the sky for a moment, before the thunder made the walls of the apartment shake. He waited to see if it woke Max, but he didn't hear a sound from his bedroom. So he just stayed there, staring at the ceiling.

It felt like he had a hole in his stomach. For the past few days it had been becoming bigger and bigger, and now it seemed to have taken over his chest. He felt hollow, wrong, empty. He remembered the pain he had felt when he heard the news with the same intensity, as if months hadn't passed by, as if he was still standing at that hospital room door, being told he hadn't gotten there on time.

God, he needed Kurt.

He needed someone who could understand the despair of being too late. He needed someone who would put his arms around him and know exactly what he was going through.

But Kurt had been drifting away in the weeks since Burt's funeral. Sometimes he didn't even reply to Blaine's texts, and he avoided telling him what he was going to do. Blaine had no idea if he was staying in Lima until the semester started, or if he had done something wrong. Had he overstepped? He didn't know, and that was just as hard as the absence.

His body felt heavy, and for a moment, he considered just staying in bed all day. He knew he couldn't, though. Soon, Max would be waking up and asking for breakfast, demanding attention, asking him to play with him and put his favorite cartoons on TV. It would be a normal day for Max, even though a year ago he was losing the two most important people in his life. He didn't remember his parents, no matter how many times he grabbed pictures and pointed at them. They weren't more than paper faces he would never get to see out of the frames.

He didn't know how long he was there, just listening to the rain falling outside. It seemed like every single memory he had of Cooper ran through his head right then, so clear that it was almost like watching a movie. He could hear his brother's voice, watch him laugh and joke, as if it hadn't been a whole year since he had last talked to him. He remembered him so vividly, it seemed impossible to think he was dead.

Max woke up. He didn't usually wake up crying anymore, but calling for him. His little voiced carried through the apartment, and his uncle's name was the first thing he uttered in the morning. It usually warmed Blaine's heart to hear him, but not today. Today, he thought he should have been calling for someone else.

It was a normal morning, just like Blaine had expected it to be. Max didn't notice, not even once, that his uncle wasn't laughing, that he wasn't tickling him or humming as he made breakfast. He didn't notice something was wrong. But Blaine knew. Blaine couldn't help seeing all the things that would have been different if that accident hadn't happened.

He wouldn't have Max. He would be alone in this apartment, or maybe with Jason. Maybe their relationship would have progressed after going to Greece. Or maybe it wouldn't have. Maybe he would have met Daniel, introduced to him by Sam, and that would have gone differently. He knew for sure he wouldn't have started dating Kurt, because it had been Max who had brought them together.

It was difficult to think about this. He wanted Cooper back so badly, sometimes it felt like the need choke him. But Kurt was a huge part of his life. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Kurt, even if things weren't perfect right now. How unfair life could be, taking so much from him and giving him that much more, as if wanting to compensate Cooper's absence with Kurt.

But now Kurt wasn't there either.

There were a million things he needed to do today. The grocery shopping list held to the fridge's door by a magnet was getting longer and longer. He needed to make an appointment with Max's doctor for a check-up. There was a pile of laundry waiting for his attention. And yet, all these little mundane things seemed to require such a huge effort from him today, that, after breakfast, he just plopped down on the couch and watched as Max played with his toys.

It was almost noon when the phone rang. He grabbed it and his heart did a weird little shift in his chest when he saw it was Kurt calling. He hadn't called since Blaine had left Ohio.

As he accepted the call, he wondered if this was going to end in even more heartbreak. "Hello?"

"Hi, Blaine." Hearing Kurt's soft voice made his body react in a way he hadn't expected. He shivered, goose bumps appearing on his skin. His heart had gone from shifting to pumping against his chest at a rate that probably wasn't normal.

"Kurt," Blaine said, and hoped he didn't sound as pathetic as he felt. He was older than Kurt. He was supposed to have it all figured out. But logic didn't seem to apply to them – whenever Kurt was near him, Blaine couldn't even think properly. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," Kurt replied, and Blaine wondered exactly how honest he was being. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of the garage in the background. "How are you?"

"Good," Blaine said automatically.

"Blaine…" Kurt whispered. "I remember what today is. How are you, really?"

Blaine's breath stuttered in an exhale. He hadn't expected Kurt to remember. He had probably only mentioned the date of Cooper and Sara's accident in passing, and yet Kurt _remembered_. "I… well, not good," he admitted after a few seconds. "I can't believe it's been a year."

"I'm sorry I'm not there for you and Max," Kurt said, and he sounded truly ashamed, as if dealing with his own loss instead of dropping everything to be there with Blaine made him the most selfish person in the world.

"Don't worry about it," Blaine reassured him. "Though I'm so glad to hear your voice."

"I know I've been…" Kurt sighed. "Quiet. I've been quiet lately, and I'm sorry if that's made things difficult for you. I just needed to think, and to take some time."

"Of course," Blaine said immediately. "I'm not mad or anything. I understand what you're going through, Kurt, more than anyone else could ever understand. I do miss you, though. And Max does too."

"I miss you both so much," Kurt said, and it sounded as if the words pained him on the way out. "But I can't leave Carole. I'm all she has left now. It's too soon."

Blaine nodded, even if Kurt couldn't see him. "It's okay. You don't need to justify what you're doing to me."

"Yes, I do. Because you and I…" Kurt paused, as if looking for the right way to say this. "We were building something together, and I just pushed you away out of nowhere. We haven't seen each other in weeks, and we barely talk, and that's all on me. It's not fair to you, Blaine."

"I just want you to do whatever you need to do to feel better," Blaine answered softly. "I don't care how long it takes, Kurt."

There was a small silence, and it seemed as if Kurt was trying to say something, but in the end, he just sighed, and said: "How's Max?"

"He's great," Blaine said, as he watched his nephew walk towards his toy box and search inside for something else to play with. "He asks me about you sometimes. Whenever he's mad at me for something, he says _I want Kurt_."

At first, Blaine thought Kurt was laughing. Then he realized the sound he heard was a choked sob.

"He really does that?" He asked, his voice shaky.

"He does," Blaine confirmed. The dark hole inside of him seemed to shrink considerably while he talked to Kurt. He didn't want the call to end. "And I'm having a really hard time finding someone he likes as much as he likes you. He's cried with every single person I've interviewed so far."

"Oh poor darling," Kurt said. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, remember Lola?" He said, referring to the little girl Max had befriended at the park a while ago. They met for play dates regularly now. "Her mom recommended the day care she takes Lola to. It's near campus, so it would be pretty convenient, and Max would be with someone he knows already. I have an appointment to check it out later this week. Hopefully it'll work out."

"That sounds fantastic," Kurt said. There was a voice on the other end, and Kurt's attention was suddenly away from the phone as he talked to whoever was there. "Hey, Blaine, I have to go. But… listen to me, okay? I know I'm not there, but you're not alone today. If you need to talk, call me. Whenever, just call me. And… I… I wish I could give you a hug right now. I bet you need one."

Blaine hadn't realized there were tears trailing down his cheeks until then. "I really do," he said with a sad little chuckle.

"I'm sorry I'm not there to give it to you," Kurt whispered. "And whatever you're thinking… I know you miss Cooper, but I hope you know he would be so proud of everything you have accomplished in the past year, despite how difficult things were."

For a moment, Blaine was invaded by the need to tell Kurt a million things: _I love you. I need to see you. Max and I can be in Ohio tomorrow morning if you just say the word. I love you, I love you, I love you._

Instead, he only said: "Thank you."

Kurt said a quiet goodbye, and Blaine forced himself to let go of the phone, despite wanting to hold on to it as if that would bring him back.

Max walked towards him, and gave him a green truck. "Play?" He said, and Blaine couldn't resist him.

They played together for a while, until it was almost time for lunch. Blaine stood up to go towards the kitchen to fix something for Max, when he heard the distinctive sound of letters being slide under his door. He retrieved the mail on his way to the kitchen, and scanned them quickly, expecting only bills. Instead, he found something that made him stop in his tracks.

There was a letter from Burt Hummel.

He sat at the kitchen table and stared at the envelope incredulously. Why had Burt sent him a letter? And when had he sent it? He was almost scared to open it, holding it with careful fingers, as if it was about to explode.

He took a deep breath, and began to read.

_Blaine,_

_Part of me hopes you'll never have to get this letter. I hid it for Carole to find in case anything happens to me, with instructions to send it to you when she does. Hopefully it won't take her too long to find it, because what I need to tell you is very important._

_By now I'm sure you know Kurt almost as well as I do. He's caring and gentle and generous, in a way I don't think I ever was. He must have gotten all of it from his mother. He's taken more care of me, than I have taken care of him. Sometimes it was hard knowing who was the parent and who was the kid. But I guess that's what happens when you become acquainted with loss from such a young age._

_Kurt's been hurt too regularly over the years. His life hasn't been as easy as I would have liked. I did everything I could to soften every blow, but I also always knew he's strong and determined. He's also incredibly stubborn, which he does take from me. I bet you know that, too. He'll keep you on your toes, and if you ever have arguments, good luck, because he can be vicious and sometimes even hurtful. He'll apologize later, if he was wrong, and you'll look at him and won't be able to stay mad, because who could ever be mad at my kid? He's the most wonderful kid in the world. He's always been._

_If you let him, he will also make you happy. So happy, Blaine, you'll wonder what the hell you did to deserve him._

_When he told me you two had gotten together, I was glad. I guess in other circumstances, fathers wouldn't be too excited about their kids dating their college professors. But I'm not most fathers, and he's not most kids. When Kurt wants something, when he does something, it's rarely for the wrong reason. He's always been too smart for his own good. He's had to mature faster than other kids, so I've always trusted him to know what was good for him and what wasn't. I didn't even have to teach him that. He just knew._

_In the past few weeks, whenever I call him, he's happy. I can't remember the last time he was this happy. You learn to take the good and the bad and live with it, when you've been through as much as he has. I bet you understand that, too. So he's been okay over the years, but never this exultantly happy. You did that. You gave him that. I'm so grateful._

_You already did so much for him, and yet I'm going to ask you to do one more thing._

_If something happens to me, and eventually it will, no matter how much he denies it, he will need you._

_Look, I know my kid, Blaine. We've been a pretty solid team for many years, and I'm lucky to be so close to him, when I know most parents don't have this kind of relationship with their kids. I know he'll be so upset that he will close himself off. I know he'll probably make a stupid decision, because the only time Kurt's making stupid decisions is when he's heartbroken._

_What I'm trying to do here is ask you this: don't let him._

_Don't let him sacrifice himself in any way for whatever happens to me. Don't let him throw away his happiness for something he couldn't have avoided._

_I don't know you very well, but you have to be a pretty great man to have made Kurt so happy in such a short time. Please don't let him fall into a hole he won't be able to climb out of. He will need you, even if he doesn't say it. I'm putting the most precious thing I have in your hands, Blaine. Please. Don't turn your back on him._

_Thank you for everything you have already done for him. You and Max. I hope I can be around long enough to get to know the two of you more, and to truly welcome you into our family._

_Burt._

Blaine finished reading the letter and started it all over again. He read it three times, before he finally put it down on the kitchen table.

He had always known how much Burt Hummel treasured his son. But with this letter, he knew he hadn't even been close to the reality. He could only hope to be this close to Max one day, to understand him like no one else. Burt had respected and loved Kurt above everything else. And he was trusting Blaine to keep taking care of him.

What were the odds of this letter arriving to him today, of all days?

The hole inside of him seemed to shrink a bit more. He folded the letter carefully and looked up, as if expecting to find everything he needed right on the ceiling. But he was looking way past it, to something that wasn't really there, but he could still feel.

"I got the message, Coop, Mr. Hummel," he murmured quietly. "I got it."


	27. Chapter 27

August arrived with suffocating temperatures. Every time Blaine stepped outside, it seemed like the concrete burned up the soles of his shoes. He tried keeping Max inside during the day, and took him out to the park or play dates once the sun began to disappear in the New York horizon.

With the intense heat, Blaine was more in the mood to lay down on a beach somewhere and relax, but instead, he had to start thinking about going back to work. He received a message with the time and place of the first staff meeting of the semester and he glared at it for a few minutes, before he sighed and accepted it was unavoidable.

He and Kurt had been texting back and forward a bit the past couple of weeks. After getting Burt's letter, which Blaine hadn't mentioned to Kurt, Blaine had done his best to remain open and accepting whenever it seemed like Kurt needed to talk. He wasn't sure how to approach Burt's request: was he supposed to talk to Kurt about it? Or should he just show up in Ohio and see what happened? He wanted to help Kurt without making it look like he was pushing him to do something he wasn't ready for. So he tried to be patient and looked out for any signs, ready to be whatever Kurt needed him to be. But, with the distance, it was still very difficult. And Kurt hadn't said a word about when he'd be back yet.

He never imagined he would hear about Kurt's plans from a different source altogether. Especially, not from someone at work.

Blaine arrived at campus with some time to spare, and stopped at a vending machine for a can of soda, eager to drink something cold that would distract him from the unbearable heat outside. He was slipping the money into the machine when he heard Kurt's name.

"Have you heard about Kurt Hummel?" A professor from another department was telling a colleague.

"Kurt Hummel? I had him last year. He's very talented. You should have seen what he did with two scraps of fabric. He turned them into a fabulous gown that looked fit for a red carpet," the woman replied. "What happened?"

"He asked for a deferral," the professor said. "On his senior year, can you believe it? Apparently he had some sort of family issue and won't be coming back to New York any time soon. It's a pity. He was very talented."

They continued talking as they walked down the hallway, but their words didn't reach Blaine anymore, who still stood, frozen, in front of the vending machine.

Kurt wasn't coming back to New York for his senior year?

It looked like this was one of those stupid decisions Burt had mentioned in his letter.

Blaine was suddenly done waiting, done with giving him space. It was time to do something.

* * *

There was a radio playing on the counter. Kurt could hear the song from under the car he was working on, and it made his heart ache. Treacherous little radio, reminding him of the city he would probably never go back to, Frank Sinatra's silky voice calling out for it again and again, as if it resembled Kurt's dreams. It was happening often now, that he woke up in the middle of the night, calling out for what wasn't there: the city, his father, Blaine.

He considered throwing a wrench at the radio, but he was too far from it to hit. So he swallowed his feelings and focused back on the car.

Once he was done, he slid out from under it, wiped his hands on a rag hanging at his waist, and inspected the engine. It still marveled him, how his hands remembered what to do despite not having to deal with cars for so long. He guessed it was in his blood.

"Hey, little boss?"

Kurt turned around to look at Tony. He had begun calling him that when Kurt took over the garage. Of all his father's employees and friends, he was the one Kurt trusted and loved the most. He had been like an uncle to him growing up. He still remembered the look of anger on his face when Kurt showed up at the garage after school, his new Marc Jacobs jacket covered with the contents of the dumpster behind the cafeteria.

"I'm gonna take my lunch break now," he said. "Unless you need me?"

Kurt found a little smile for him. "I'm fine. Go ahead."

Tony grabbed his car keys and walked out. Kurt knew he drove to a little diner for lunch every day, where his youngest daughter worked. They took their lunch breaks together and chatted over greasy burgers and fries.

Such a simple little ritual, and yet he envied them the possibility. He hoped they were cherishing every single second they spent together.

He bent under the hood of the car and went back to work. He didn't even need to think much about what he was doing – his hands took over, finding what he needed them to find. His Dad had always said he would have made a fine mechanic. And now he was one.

Requesting time off from school had been a very difficult decision to make, because he knew it meant giving up a ton of other things: going back to New York, being Rachel's roommate, graduating on time.

Blaine and Max.

He hadn't told him yet, hadn't figured out how to explain what he was doing. He didn't want to hear the disappointment in Blaine's voice, and the obvious question that would follow.

_What about us?_

Kurt didn't know how to be in two places at once. He didn't know how to do what he felt he had to do in Lima, and be in New York at the same time.

Maybe taking a semester off would help him figure things out. The garage needed him: it had been losing money since his father had had to take a step away from it, and now it wasn't enough to pay the employees' salaries and cover the debts his father had left behind. What was he supposed to do? Leave Carole to deal with it while he was away at school?

He knew what the sensible option was, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

The song on the radio changed. It was a catchy little tune, a newer song that Kurt didn't recognize. He hadn't had time to pay attention to that kind of thing lately.

He heard someone walking into the garage, a new customer. "I'll be there in a minute!" He called, as he tightened a loose bolt. But he heard a shriek in response, so he straightened up and turned to look towards the entrance.

The first thing he saw was Max running towards him at the highest speed his little legs allowed him to.

Kurt dropped the tools he was holding, a little gasp escaping from his lips. He kneeled down just in time for Max to collapse against his chest, throwing his small arms around Kurt's neck, all the while uttering non-stop: "Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt."

Kurt held him, first lightly, as if scared he would break the illusion that made possible for Max to be right here. But when he realized this was a real boy, flesh and bones, breathing against his neck, he tightened his arms around him. He had been thinking about him not two minutes ago, and now he was here. Kurt felt as if he had fallen into a spell.

His heart was beating so wildly he wondered if Max could feel it bumping against his own. And he knew, he just knew, that if Max was here, then Blaine…

He looked up.

Blaine was standing not ten feet away from them, watching them. He was smiling, like the sight in front of him was the most delightful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. There was something blurry about the shape of him, and it took a few seconds for Kurt to realize it was because his eyes were filled with tears.

A moment ago they had felt a million miles away. And now they were close enough to touch.

"Hi Kurt," Blaine said, softly.

Kurt stood up, Max still clutching his neck like he would never let go again. "Blaine…" he breathed out. "What… what are you guys doing here?"

"We really needed to see you," Blaine replied, and then glanced at Max. He grinned, amused. "Clearly."

Kurt kissed Max's chubby cheeks over and over again. This perfect little boy. He thought he had missed him, but he had no idea how much until he had him back in his arms. Then he looked at Blaine again, and noticed his body itching, as if it needed to get closer to him at once, longing for the touch it had been starving for.

"I probably should have called you first," Blaine said. "But I was a bit worried you would not want us to come at all."

"Are you crazy?" Kurt asked, shaking his head. "I always want to see you two."

Blaine frowned a bit. "Are you sure? Then why didn't you tell me you're not going back to school this semester?"

Kurt froze. How had Blaine…?

"Kurt, I work there. I hear things. And I would have noticed anyway if you didn't go back to New York by the end of the month." Blaine crossed his arms over his chest. He looked like he was trying to shield himself, and Kurt wondered what he was shielding himself from. "So why didn't you tell me?"

Kurt leaned back against the car. He felt so tired, like he had been running non-stop since his father had passed away. "I don't know. I guess I didn't know how to tell you."

"Kurt, I thought…" Blaine begun to say, but was interrupted by a customer walking into the garage.

Kurt looked at him apologetically, before handing Max over. Max protested loudly and reached his arms for Kurt as Blaine tried to hold him in place.

"Give me a second, okay?" He asked, and part of him was relieved to have an excuse to walk away. He pointed at the office. "Wait in there, if you want. I'll be with you as soon as I can."

Kurt wasn't proud to admit he took longer than usual with the new client. He didn't want to go into the office and talk to Blaine. He was scared he wouldn't be able to say no to him, if Blaine asked him to go back to New York. He was already hanging by a very thin thread.

When he finally joined them, Max was sitting on the floor, entertaining himself with one of his cars, and Blaine was sitting on the couch, watching him. He glanced up at Kurt when he walked into the office, and sighed.

"Look, Kurt," he said. "I'm not here to make you feel uncomfortable. I just want to talk. And I know you asked me to give you space, but to be honest… I'm not sure space was exactly what you needed in the first place, if all you were going to do was turn your life upside down and throw your education out the window."

Kurt felt anger bubbling inside of him. "You don't think I know what's best for me? You don't think I can make my own decisions? I'm not a kid, Blaine. I know what I'm doing."

"Do I fit into any of these decisions?" Blaine asked, and he sounded calm, but Kurt knew it was just a façade. "Or don't I get a saying at all? In case you forgot, you and I started a relationship. What were you going to do about it? Break up with me over the phone? Or weren't you even going to tell me that we're over?"

Those words hit Kurt like a ton of bricks. He felt breathless and stared at Blaine horrified. "Of course not! That's not what I want!"

Blaine nodded, and then asked the question Kurt had been dreading: "Okay, then what are your plans, Kurt?"

Kurt walked towards a chair and sat down. His knees felt weak, and he suddenly couldn't even look at Max. He forced himself to look at Blaine, but not Max. He wasn't sure he would be strong enough to say this if he looked at him. "I'm going to stay here. I've decided to run the garage and stay in Lima, with Carole."

Blaine's face didn't change, but Kurt saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. "So your deferral for the semester is actually not a deferral. You're dropping out."

"Yes," Kurt choked out.

Blaine looked away from him for a moment, as if gathering strength for his next question. "And can you tell me, honestly, that that's what you want? That it will make you happy, to stay and take over the garage?"

Kurt was going to say yes. It had been his plan all along, to make Blaine believe this was all he wanted, that nothing mattered more. But when he looked into his sad whiskey eyes, he couldn't do it. "No," he said quietly. "But it's what I have to do."

Blaine nodded thoughtfully, before he reached into his pocket. He extended an envelope to Kurt. "Read it."

Kurt was puzzled by this request, but accepted the letter anyway, and opened it to read it. His heart stopped when he recognized his father's handwriting. Suddenly, his hands were shaking and he couldn't breathe. "What is this?"

Blaine smiled softly at him, as if encouraging him. "Just read it, Kurt."

Only two lines in, Kurt began to cry copiously. By the end of it, he was sobbing so hard, his entire body shook with the force of it. Max had stopped playing with his toys and had walked towards Blaine, confused and scared by Kurt's reaction. He covered his face with his hands, trying to gather some control back, but he couldn't. This had been so unexpected…

"I can't believe he did this," he finally said, and carefully placed the letter on the desk.

"He was worried about you," Blaine said. "And so am I. I got his letter on the anniversary of Coop and Sara's death. I like to think it was some kind of sign."

"But he's not here," Kurt muttered brokenly. "He's not here to deal with the aftermath. He's not here to make things right. It falls on my shoulders now."

"No, it doesn't," Blaine assured him. He reached out and put his hand on Kurt's knee, a comforting little touch. "Kurt, we know better than anyone that loss is a part of life. No matter how painful or terrifying it is, we have to go forward."

"But…" Kurt tried to protest, weakly.

"Just think of how worried your Dad must have been to even plan this whole thing," Blaine shook his head, incredulous. "He didn't want you to suffer unnecessarily. He knew you would be wrecked enough about him being gone. He didn't want you to have to bear something else. He took the precautions to make sure someone was here to take care of you, to make sure you didn't let this ruin you…"

"But the garage…"

"Kurt," Blaine murmured, sadly. "I'm pretty sure he would have set the garage on fire before he allowed it to become the reason you're miserable."

Among the darkness that had been surrounding him for too many weeks now, Kurt suddenly saw a light. He wasn't sure if he was truly allowed to embrace it, to accept it, but god, he wanted to so badly.

"I hope you don't mind, but I talked to a few people at the admissions office and I got them to hold your spot for a couple more weeks," Blaine explained. "So if you want to go back to school this semester, you can. You just need to let them know as soon as you can. And I know I might have overstepped… but Kurt, all I want, all I ever wanted, and what your Dad wanted… was for you to be happy."

"Blaine…" Kurt whispered. He didn't know what to say. How had he been so lucky to find someone as amazing as Blaine?

"Please, Kurt, come home," Blaine said, and there was such vulnerability in his words, that it almost tore Kurt apart. "Please."

Kurt wanted to throw himself into his arms and say yes. He wanted to let go of the weight on his shoulders and finally heal, and walk hand in hand with Blaine and Max towards the happiness he knew he could find with them. Instead he said, "I don't know if I can leave Carole. She's the only family I have left."

Blaine moved closer, kneeled next to Kurt's chair. He held his face between his hands and smiled up at him. "Don't you get it, Kurt? Max and I? We're your family, too. And we both love you so much we're going insane without you." A watery little smile appeared on Kurt's face. "I love you. And I've been waiting a long time to tell you that."

When Kurt had woken up that morning, he had expected another grey day. A day in which he would do what he thought he had to do, pushing away at the pain he felt every time he thought about how much he was losing. He had told himself it was what he needed to do, what his father would have wanted him to do.

He hadn't expected his father's blessing and Blaine telling him he loved him.

"I love you too," he replied, and moved in for the kiss he had been dying to give him since Blaine had walked into the garage.

For the first time since Burt Hummel had left the world a little emptier and a little less bright, Kurt could feel happiness at the tips of his fingers, ready for him to grab it.

* * *

Carole wasn't home yet when they arrived at the house. Kurt looked down at himself, apparently just noticing he was wearing work overalls, and that his hands were stained with grease. Blaine didn't say a word about the stain on his cheek, though, because he found it adorable.

"I'm going to take a quick shower, and I'll be right back," Kurt said, before dropping a quick kiss on Blaine's lips, like he couldn't resist it now that they were close again.

"Okay," Blaine smiled at him. "Do you mind if I make a snack for Max? He hasn't eaten anything since we left home."

"Oh, of course," Kurt nodded. "Help yourself to whatever you need."

Once Kurt was back downstairs, hair damp from the shower and clean clothes on him, and Max's hunger had been appeased, they sat together on the couch, one of Max's favorite cartoons playing on the background. The little boy sat on the carpet and stared at the TV, a little sleepy, while Kurt and Blaine cuddled, enjoying the feel of the other's arms around them.

"Is it stupid that I'm a little nervous?" Kurt whispered into the crook of Blaine's shoulder. "I don't know what I'm going to tell Carole. I don't want her to feel left out."

"We'll figure out a way to spend as much time with her as possible," Blaine said, thoughtfully. "Maybe we can come over once a month, and she can go over to New York as well. But I'm sure she wants more than anything for you to be happy, Kurt. She doesn't want you stuck here in Lima."

Kurt sighed tiredly. "There's just so much to do, and I don't know where to start. Carole, the garage…"

"Hey," Blaine murmured, shifting so he could look Kurt in the eyes. "You're not alone here, Kurt. We're a team, okay? You don't have to do anything by yourself. We'll find a solution, together."

Kurt smiled at him, looking like he was in wonder of him. "I can't believe you're here. I can't believe you just didn't give up on me…"

Blaine rolled his eyes. Kurt could be so silly sometimes… "Are you kidding me? It took me so long to find you, Kurt. I'm not letting you go that easily. Even if that means Max and I have to move to Ohio."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Why would you do so such a horrific thing?"

Laughing, Blaine kissed his temple. "We're a family now. Where you go, we go. So if you end up wanting to stay with Carole, we'll tag along. I can find a job here."

It looked like Kurt couldn't find the right words to reply, because he simply leaned in and captured Blaine's lips with his. They didn't need words, when they could pour everything they were feeling into a kiss.

They pulled away when they heard the sound of the front door and Carole's steps as she came in. A moment later, her voice called into the house.

"Kurt? Are you home yet?"

"In the living room, Carole!" He exclaimed, and both he and Blaine looked over the edge of the couch as they waited for her to come in.

"I stopped by the supermarket and bought some chicken for dinner," she was saying as she approached. "I was thinking we could make… Blaine!"

Her shriek of surprise was almost as loud as the one Max had let out in the garage when he saw Kurt. She crossed the living room towards them and wrapped her arms around Blaine as soon as he was on his feet.

"Oh, Blaine! Oh, I'm so happy to see you!" She said, as she hugged him so tightly Blaine was sure his ribs were about to crack. She was a fierce, strong woman for her size. "What a lovely surprise! And little Max! Oh, hi cutie!"

After all the hugging was over, they followed Carole into the kitchen, Max perched comfortably in Kurt's arms, to help her with the groceries and get a start on dinner. She looked well, Blaine thought as he stole a few glances her way, like someone who's fought enough battles but still knows how to keep standing, no matter how wounded you might be.

Blaine and Carole cooked together, while Kurt sat at the kitchen table entertaining Max, who didn't seem like he wanted to leave Kurt's arms any time soon. Carole marinated the chicken, and Blaine peeled potatoes at the sink, all the while chatting and catching up with each other. This was the kind of dynamic a family was supposed to have, the kind Blaine hadn't shared with anyone since Cooper and Sara had died. It was nice to have it back.

It was obvious Carole was avoiding asking any questions about what Blaine was doing there, and what it meant. She kept the conversation casual as they worked together effortlessly, with Kurt adding a comment or two, or telling Blaine where to find something in one of the cabinets. Max was also chatty, talking at the speed of light as if he wanted to fill Kurt in on everything that had happened since the last time they had seen each other.

Once they all sat at the table together, passing mashed potatoes and the bread basket in turns, Carole rested her chin on her joined hands and looked at them, expectantly.

"So?" She prompted. "Is anyone going to tell me what's going on here?"

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a quick glance. Blaine knew Kurt had to be the one to tell Carole, so he reached under the table to give his knee a firm, comforting squeeze.

"Well," Kurt started slowly. He seemed scared, like he wasn't sure what would come out of this. "Blaine and I have been talking and… I think I'd like to go back to New York."

There was no surprise on Carole's face. She looked at him like she was expecting him to say something else. "Okay. And wasn't that the plan all along?" She asked, with a hesitant smile.

"You know it wasn't," Kurt said, his blue eyes fixed on her. "Until this morning, the plan was completely different." He ate some chicken, mostly to give himself some time. "The truth is, Carole, that I've been feeling lost and undecided for weeks, and the decision I was about to make seemed to be the right one, but it would have made me incredibly unhappy, as well."

"Then it can't be the right one," Carole said, shrugging simply. "Of course you should go back to New York, Kurt. I'm so relieved you finally see that."

"But there's so much to stay here for," Kurt sighed impatiently, like he couldn't believe she didn't see it. "Dad's garage…"

"You're not a mechanic, Kurt, no matter how good you are at it," Carole interrupted. "It's just a business. It was important to your father, and it was a big part of your childhood, but it's still just a business. There's no use holding onto it so tightly just for memory's sake."

"It's still so hard to let go of it…" Kurt shook his head. "I know what I have to do, but it's hard."

"It's always hard, letting go of anything," Carole replied. "You and I, and Blaine, all know that very well."

Blaine gave him a little smile. He hadn't known Carole for very long, but he loved her. It was impossible not to.

"And what about you?" Kurt finally asked, a little desperate. "Would you be okay, staying here in this big empty house? It can't be easy. It hasn't been easy for me to be here the past few weeks. I'm sure you must feel the same."

"Of course it would be hard to stay here," Carole admitted. "But, to be honest, I'm still here because of you, Kurt."

Kurt seemed truly puzzled. He stared at her, unsure what she meant. "What?"

"For a moment, it looked like you were determined to stay, and I didn't think it would be a good idea to leave you here alone," Carole explained calmly. "But I've had a different plan in mind for a while now."

Now Blaine was also curious. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"My sister, Diana, asked me to move in with her," Carole said. "She lost her husband two years ago, and her daughters are in college already. She has the room, and we would keep each other company. I was actually really excited about the idea. She lives in Stanton, Pennsylvania, so we don't see each other as much as we'd like to. It would be nice to be with her again, with someone who understands what I'm going through. She was always my best friend, I miss her."

Blaine frowned, making the calculations in his head. "Stanton? That's less than three hours away from Manhattan. You would actually be closer to us."

Kurt still looked pretty stunned. "You've only stayed here this long for me? But Carole… why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to put more pressure on you, Kurt. You needed to figure out what you had to do for yourself," Carole answered, smiling at him. "You've had a hard time dealing with your father's passing. Sometimes you forgot I was here with him all along. I knew what was coming. I had time to come to terms with it. It doesn't mean it hurts any less, but it didn't shock me like it shocked you. And do you really think Burt would want us to put our lives on hold and be sad forever? The only thing he truly cared about was his family. He wanted us to be safe and happy. Shouldn't we honor him by doing whatever we can to be happy?"

Kurt pushed his chair away and went around the table to hug his stepmother. She smiled into his shoulder, her eyes on Blaine, and patted Kurt's back lovingly.

"You silly boys," she muttered, and there were a few tears springing into her eyes. "How did you even think you could stay away from each other? Stop being so miserable, and just allow yourselves to be in love, instead."

Kurt pulled away and looked into her eyes, almost fiercely. "We'll visit you every weekend, if you want. And you can visit us, and I'll take you shopping. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Carole smiled softly, no doubt in her eyes. "This is what I want. Is it what you want?"

Blaine felt the burn of Kurt's gaze on him, as he turned to glance at him and Max quickly, like he wanted to make sure they were there, they were real.

"This is what I want," he said.

Blaine could almost see the anguish and the guilt vanish from Kurt's face. Oh the weight he had been carrying. Blaine didn't understand how he hadn't bent under it. He raised his glass, smiling at his family. "To new beginnings," he said.

Kurt was half crying, half laughing when he raised his own glass. "To new beginnings," he repeated.

There were so many different paths stretching before them, and Blaine didn't really care which one they chose right now, as long as he got to walk down it hand in hand with Kurt.

* * *

Kurt drove Blaine and Max to the airport in his father's old truck. They pulled the windows down and let the warm air mess their hair. There was a rush of freedom running through Kurt's veins, like he was suddenly allowed to choose his happiness. He no longer felt like he was betraying his Dad for returning to New York. Blaine had let him keep the letter, and he read it every night, as if it meant he got his Dad's blessing before he went to bed.

"You didn't forget anything, right?" Kurt asked. "Max's toys? Clothes?"

"I'm pretty sure I have everything," Blaine replied, as he fumbled with the radio dial. "I'm sorry I can't stay and help with the garage and the packing."

"Don't worry about it," Kurt said as he changed lanes. "You have to work. You can't keep missing meetings while you're here. The semester is almost starting, and you have a lot to do."

"Ugh, tell me about it," Blaine groaned, as he chose a station playing old 80s songs.

"Plus I really feel like I need to take care of it by myself, you know? I guess it'll give me closure," Kurt explained. "And it'll feel so much better arriving back in New York when I get to go home to you and Max."

Blaine smiled broadly, unable to hold back how much he loved the sound of that. "So when are you meeting with Tony?"

Burt's best friend, Tony, had made an offer for the garage as soon as Kurt let him know he had decided to sell it. Kurt had accepted immediately, knowing it would be in the very best hands. Tony had even said he didn't plan on changing the name. It had been Hummel and Sons for years, and that's how it would remain.

"Your old man would have liked that," Tony had said.

"Tomorrow," Kurt replied. It still seemed weird to be selling the garage, but not a bad weird. He guessed that leaving it to Tony helped make the transition easier. "Then Carole and I have to finish up paperwork on the house. We should be ready to go in about two weeks."

"If you change your mind and need any help, call me, alright?" Blaine said for the millionth time. "I'll figure something out at work."

"I promise, but please don't worry about it." Kurt reached to squeeze Blaine's hand quickly. "I think Carole and I have everything under control."

Kurt carried Max through the airport, wanting to hold onto him for as long as he could. Max seemed to fear they were about to part, because he clung to Kurt's neck as if his life depended on it.

"This is the last time we'll be apart," Kurt promised him. "I won't leave you again, okay?"

"I love you," Blaine said, as he watched them. "You and Max… you're everything to me. And I will make sure you don't regret this, ever. I'll make sure, Kurt."

"I know you will," Kurt said, leaning in for a kiss. "I love you, too."

They weren't thrilled about spending the next two weeks apart, but they knew what would be waiting for them at the end of those two weeks. Nothing had ever felt this right. They had never been more certain of anything.

They belonged together.

"See you in two weeks," Blaine said, as he kissed him goodbye.

Kurt kissed Max's forehead and cupped Blaine's cheek in his hand for a moment, looking into the eyes he loved so much. "I can't wait."

Kurt waved them goodbye, until they got lost in the crowd.

He drove back to Lima alone, one last time.


	28. Chapter 28

Kurt hadn't expected a whole welcome committee when his plane landed in New York two weeks later, but as soon as he left baggage claim, he saw them.

Max was sitting on Blaine's shoulders, holding a sign that said "Welcome home, Kurt!" He beamed and squealed when he saw him appear in the mass of passengers and began bouncing on his uncle's shoulders. Blaine smiled almost as big as his nephew.

But they weren't alone. Rachel was also there, with heart-shaped balloons and jumping up and down like an excited school girl, and Mercedes and Sam, holding hands and cheering as soon as they spot him.

Kurt ran towards them, got lost in the massive hug they all shared, somehow found Blaine's lips in the confusion or arms and pats on the back. He laughed, happier than he had been in a long time, feeling grateful to be home, with the family he had chosen.

He was ready for a new start.

* * *

Kurt closed the door after Rachel and leaned against it for a minute, before joining Blaine in the kitchen, where he was stacking empty pizza boxes.

"Oh god," he murmured. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to see them again, but I thought _they would never leave_."

Blaine chuckled and went towards him, trapping him between his arms against the counter. "They missed you."

"I missed them, too," Kurt replied, putting his arms around Blaine's neck. "But I also missed this."

He kissed Blaine, open mouthed and little desperate. He couldn't remember the last time they had been intimate, the last time they had kissed like this. Kurt loved and treasured even the chastest of kisses, but his body was screaming for more.

"Can we please go to bed?" He asked, his hands fisting Blaine's shirt tightly.

There was no way Blaine was saying no.

They kissed their way into the bedroom, laughing when they bumped into walls and tables on the way, but unwilling to part to make it easier. Blaine began to unbutton Kurt's shirt, desperate to get to the skin underneath, the one he loved to kiss and bite and caress.

The bed was soft and familiar against Kurt's back. He relaxed into the mattress and allowed Blaine to trail every inch of him with his lips. His body seemed to vibrate, welcoming the familiarity, surrendering to Blaine.

Kurt had never liked it when people talked about how their bodies and their souls belonged to their lovers. He had never liked it when they talked about someone as if they were only property, an object someone else could have whenever they wanted. But god, now, with Blaine on top of him, he understood. It wasn't about owning, it was about finding the one person you could share yourself completely with, trusting them to take care of you even when you were at your most vulnerable, recognizing in them your own desires and hopes, and letting them satisfy your urges just as you satisfied theirs. It was about reciprocity, about trust, and love, and safety. How could he have ever thought it was something negative and degrading?

For a long time, the only sound that could be heard in the apartment was the never-ending New York traffic outside the window, and the faint pants and moans coming from the bedroom.

Afterwards, they lied together, tangled naked in bed, Kurt's head resting on Blaine's chest, counting his heartbeats. Blaine was playing with their intertwined fingers, watching how well they fit, illuminated by the moonlight. There was something floating in the air between them, something that felt a lot like peace.

"Welcome back, Kurt," Blaine whispered, kissing his hair.

Kurt hummed pleasantly, spent. "It feels good to be back."

"You know, for a moment I thought I'd lost you," Blaine admitted quietly. "I didn't know what to do."

"You did the right thing," Kurt said, as he traced circles on Blaine's chest with his finger. "You really did. I think I would have ended up coming back to New York at some point, even if you hadn't gone back for me. But it might have taken me a lot longer to figure out what I needed to do, to realize I didn't need to feel guilty. And I probably would have lost any chances I had of being with you."

Blaine snorted. "Please. As if you could do anything to scare me away."

Kurt chuckled. "Shut up. I'm being serious."

"So am I," Blaine said. He used his free hand to tilt Kurt's head upwards, so he could look into his eyes. "We both know how precious it is to have people who are worth it, people who love you and who we can love back. I'm not about to screw that up, you know."

Kurt sighed in contentment. He was so glad to be here, in Blaine's arms. He was glad to know Max was safe and asleep in the room next to them. He was glad to know he was part of their lives.

* * *

The new semester started soon enough, and Kurt welcomed being so busy again. Even though he was happy to be back in New York with Blaine and his friends, he was still trying to get used to the idea that his father wasn't around anymore. More than once, he caught himself dialing Burt's number, before he remembered he wasn't going to pick up his call.

Fortunately, Kurt had a lot to focus on. His new classes were going to be kicking his ass, and he had started his new job search, now that things with Max had been figured out and he had started at the same day care as his friend Lola. Kurt was suddenly aware of all the possibilities lying ahead, and he was beginning to get excited about which paths he would be able to choose. It helped him be positive, and it helped made the process of grieving his dad a little more bearable.

"I just hope I can find a job I will love as much as I loved my last one," Kurt said to Rachel one morning, as he finished up his coffee quickly. He had his first interview right after one of his classes today, and he was feeling a little nervous.

"I don't think you'll get to cuddle adorable babies all day long, but I'm sure you'll find something almost as good as that," she said with a smile. Kurt dropped a kiss on her cheek and left the apartment, as she called after him: "Good luck! Call me if I need to get a bottle of champagne to celebrate tonight!"

Kurt really did hope he would have something to celebrate, if not by tonight, by the end of the month at the very least.

Kurt spent at least three nights a week at Blaine's, and he probably would have stayed longer if it wasn't because he didn't want Rachel to feel like he was abandoning her. But he felt so comfortable there, and he missed Max and Blaine when he went back to his apartment. In pretty much every way, his real home was Blaine's.

It was a little weird not having Blaine as his professor anymore. Kurt actually missed his classes: he'd never seen someone so passionate and articulate, so caring and generous stand at the front of class and pour his heart out as he reviewed the words of Shakespeare or Paul Auster or Maya Angelou. But even though he wished he could sit at one of his lectures again, knowing he could just go to Blaine's apartment at the end of the day and cuddle with him, and hear him talk about his day was so, so much better.

A new perk from not being Blaine's student anymore was being free to stop by his office just to say hi or to drop a cup of coffee or a chocolate croissant whenever he felt like it, and especially when it sounded like Blaine was having the kind of day that welcomed fattening baked goods.

It wasn't as if they were announcing to everyone around them that they were together, but Blaine said it wouldn't get him in trouble anymore, so if anyone happened to find out, it didn't really matter.

On Fridays, Kurt was usually done with his classes by noon, and until he found a job, he didn't have much to do afterwards. So after he walked out of his last class of the week, he decided to stop by the cafeteria and get Blaine some lunch, who still had a few more hours to go before he could get his weekend started.

The door of Blaine's office was ajar when he arrived, and he raised his hand to give a little knock to announce his presence. To his surprise, Blaine was sitting across the desk from Natalie, the girl who had had a crush on him since Kurt had first walked into one of his classes. She looked over her shoulder and frowned when she saw Kurt.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Kurt said, with an apologetic smile. He walked into the office. "Hi Natalie! It's nice to see you again."

"Hi Kurt," she asked, staring at him as if she wanted to figure out how the hell he had scored Mr. Anderson. "It looks like we don't share any classes this semester."

"No, I'm focusing on all the ones I have left for my major," Kurt replied. He placed a paper bag on Blaine's desk. "Hey. Just wanted to drop off some lunch. They had that chicken salad you like so much at the cafeteria."

Blaine looked at him like he had hung the moon. "You're the best. Are you heading home already?"

"Yes," Kurt said, aware of Natalie's eyes on him.

"Could you pick up Max at day care? I think I'm going to be out of here a little later than expected. I have several appointments with students," Blaine said.

"Of course," Kurt said immediately. "I'll text you when we get home. I'll let you guys get back to your business now, and get out of your hair."

"I'll walk you out," Blaine said, and practically bounced off his chair. They stopped at the door, and he spoke in a lower voice, as if not wanting Natalie to hear. "I was thinking we could go try that new Mediterranean restaurant near my place tonight? We haven't been out since you came back from Ohio. I thought it'd be nice."

"Sounds great," Kurt smiled. "Text me when you're done here?"

"Sure," Blaine leaned in for a quick peck. "Love you."

"Love you too," Kurt murmured, and was out of the office and walking down the corridor before the temptation to look over to see Natalie's face could win him over.

It was a lovely day outside, and Kurt walked to Max's day care enjoying the sunshine on his face. Soon he would have to fish his box of scarves and sweaters from the closet, but it was nice to enjoy the last warm days of the season, even if they didn't provide many options for trendy accessories.

Max's day care wasn't far from campus, which was one the reasons Blaine had picked it. So far Max seemed to like it, and didn't cry with any of the people there, probably because he was always too distracted playing with Lola. It had been a blessing to find it.

Kurt walked in and greeted the woman at the reception desk. "Hi! My name's Kurt, I'm here for Max Anderson?"

"Oh you must be Mr. Anderson's partner," she said, and Kurt was surprised for a moment. "He mentioned you might stop by every now and then instead of him. I'll go get Max for you!"

Mr. Anderson's partner. He had never quite liked that expression - it made it sound like business - but now he didn't mind. It was nice to be recognized as someone who was an important part of Blaine's life, and of Max's life.

Max didn't look happy to stop playing with Lola, but brightened up when he saw Kurt. "Hi Kurt!"

"Hi, Max!" He said, picking him up. "Ready to go home?"

"I want ice-cream," Max murmured with a big, winning smile that Kurt couldn't say no to.

They stopped for a little ice-cream on the way home (a cone with one-scoop of vanilla, Blaine's patented approved ice-cream flavor unless he knew the ice-cream parlor very well and knew for sure there weren't any nuts anywhere near what his nephew was about to eat. Kurt still checked, asking the guy at the counter a million times if he was sure it was fine for Max to eat). Max was happy, warm and ice-cream sticky in his arms as they walked the remaining blocks towards Blaine's building, the sun still shining over them.

It had been a really good day, and that gave him hope. Kurt knew that as long as he was with Blaine and Max, he would have a million good days ahead, and he couldn't wait to enjoy each and every one of them.

* * *

It was already October when Kurt finally found a job. When he got a call from _Vogue_ saying Isabelle Wright had been very impressed with his résumé and his interview, he nearly fainted. And when they asked him if he could start the following Monday, he had to hold back what it would have no doubt been a very, very embarrassing squeal.

He knew he would probably start by serving coffee to the most important people in the company, and that he would be a glorified waiter who worked more hours than anyone else for less than half the salary. But he didn't care. He had taken his first step into the fashion world. And it was _Vogue_.

Blaine threw a little dinner party at his place to celebrate, and Rachel brought the bottle of champagne she had promised him. It was nice to share his accomplishments with them, and with Sam and Mercedes. The following weekend they had promised to visit Carole in Stanton, and she had already told him she was making his favorite food to celebrate as well.

"I'm not going to fit into the suit I was planning to wear for my first day," Kurt laughed, but he was too happy to care.

Blaine insisted he should come straight to his apartment after his first day to tell him everything, and they sat with a bottle of wine and some delicious homemade food to talk. Blaine let him gush about everything he had learned and seen already, and simply watched him with a smile, happy that he was happy.

When Kurt finally went home the following day, Rachel had a new bottle of champagne and was sitting on the couch waiting for him.

"Rach," he said, laughing. "Between you and Blaine, I'll be lucky if I go to work sober at least once this week. We celebrated plenty already."

"I know," she said, and she looked a little nervous. "This is not about your job."

Kurt blinked in confusion. He dropped his bag and jacket on the armchair and sat down on the couch next to her. "Then what is it about?"

Rachel took a deep breath. "When you were still in Ohio, I went to a few auditions. I just got a call back today…"

"Oh my god!" Kurt shrieked, bouncing on his seat. "What role?"

"Jenna in Waitress," Rachel replied, and it was obvious it was very hard for her to hold back her excitement.

"Rachel, that's fantastic! That's a great role!" Kurt stood up, grabbed her hands and pulled her up, too. He hugged her tightly. "Why aren't you jumping and screaming right now?"

"It's for the national tour," Rachel said, biting her lip. "I would have to leave New York."

"Oh," Kurt said, his eyes widening. He watched her. "This is still a great opportunity, though. Aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am!" She exclaimed. "This is pretty much everything I ever wanted! It's a beautiful leading role!" She hugged him tightly. "I just feel like I'm abandoning you. What about the apartment? Will you be able to pay rent by yourself? Would you even want to stay here alone? There's so much to talk about…"

"There's nothing to talk about," Kurt replied, smiling at her. "You're going. Screw the apartment. I'll see what I do, but you're doing this, Rach. You deserve it."

It looked like she finally allowed herself to be happy about the news. She squealed and bounced, throwing her arms around his neck. He pulled away after a moment to pop open the bottle of champagne.

They sat together on the couch, and Rachel told him everything about her audition, and how she had believed she wouldn't get it, because they had taken a long time to call back.

"I thought they had cast someone else already," Rachel explained, swirling the bubbly golden liquid on her glass. "But apparently the delay was because they had to recast Dr. Pomatter. Apparently the first guy just found out his wife's pregnant, and prefers to stay in New York now. So they uhm, found someone else."

There was something bashful and strange about the look on Rachel's face. Kurt studied her, puzzled. "What? What is it? Is he too ugly?"

"Uh, well… we actually know him," Rachel said. "It's Jesse St. James."

Kurt almost spit out the champagne. "What?!"

"You remember Jesse…"

"Of course I remember him! He's the guy who made breakfast on your head!" Kurt muttered angrily. "Is he still an asshole?"

"No, he's actually… he's actually really nice," Rachel said shyly. "He apologized for what he did back in high school. It's ancient history, I never even think about it anymore. He seems so much more mature, kinder…"

Kurt didn't say anything. There was a little glow in Rachel's eyes that he hadn't seen in a very, very long time. He decided to let it go, allow her this joy that she desperately needed, and worry about Jesse St. James later. He would try to find him and warn him not to hurt his best friend again. He would find the most painful ways to torture him if he needed to.

"I'm so happy for you, Rach," he said instead, and hugged her again. "Congratulations."

The next night, Kurt lied in bed with Blaine, enjoying the weight of Blaine's head on his shoulder and playing with his curls. He loved the conversations they held in the darkness of the bedroom almost every night. It was a new little ritual, and Kurt secretly cherished it most of any of the others. He told Blaine all about Rachel's new gig, including his concern over Jesse walking back into her life, and the fact that he needed to figure out what to do about the loft.

Blaine hummed and adjusted his arm, thrown across Kurt's stomach. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?"

Kurt blinked up at the ceiling, confused. "What's obvious? That you'll hold Jesse's arms behind his back while I punch him in the face if he misbehaves?"

Blaine chuckled sleepily. "That, too. But I mean that you should move in with us."

There was a little pause in which Kurt wondered if he had imagined what Blaine had just said. "Are you…? Blaine, are you talking in your sleep?"

Blaine shifted so he could lean on his elbow and look down at Kurt. Even without any lights on, Kurt could see his eyes sparkle. "What? No. I mean it."

"Oh," Kurt gasped, feeling like all the air was suddenly leaving his lungs.

"It's fine if you don't want to, or if you're not ready," Blaine said calmly. "But it's the obvious next step, and in case you haven't noticed yet, Kurt, this is it for me. I'm all in."

Kurt gaped at him for a moment, and then replayed Blaine's words in his head. He frowned, thoughtfully. "Did you just quote Gilmore Girls at me?"

Blaine smiled broadly. "Maybe. Did it work?"

"I don't know," Kurt murmured. "I mean, I always thought I was the Luke to your Lorelai."

"Are you kidding me?" Blaine snorted. "You're obsessed with coffee, and you babble when you're nervous…"

"You're the one who has a kid…"

"That does not count!"

"Of course it does!"

"Luke also had a kid, and he practically raised Jess for a while! Plus you would rather be naked than wearing those flannel shirts and the baseball cap…" Blaine slid on top of Kurt, pinning him against the mattress and smiling down at him.

Kurt was about to protest, but he stopped, looking thoughtful. "You're right. Though I can't approve of some of Lorelai's outfits either…"

"Kurt," Blaine said, looking at him pointedly.

"Yes?" Kurt muttered, once again feeling breathless.

"It's okay if you don't want to. We can wait," Blaine reassured him sweetly.

Kurt cupped Blaine's face in his hand, his thumb caressing the line of his jaw. He was in constant awe of this man, and the fact that he was allowed to be like this with him. "Yes."

"Yes, we can wait or…?" Blaine prompted, and this time the façade fell, and Kurt realized how nervous he truly was about asking him this.

"Yes, I'll move in with you and Max," Kurt replied.

Blaine kissed him until kisses weren't enough anymore, and then there were hands and mouths and slick fingers, and Kurt saying yes to Blaine over and over and over again as he felt him deep inside. As his back arched off the bed, carried by waves of pleasure, Kurt realized there wasn't a single thing Blaine could ask him that he wouldn't say yes to.

This was his life. Sadness seemed so far away right now that Kurt couldn't even remember what it felt like. He knew there were absences and empty spaces he would carry with him forever, heavy and permanent in his heart, but he also knew that as long as he had Blaine, and as long as he had Max, he could keep building happy memories.

The first rays of sunlight began to soften the darkness of the midnight sky when they finally settled down to sleep, spent and happy, knowing their alarm would go off in just an hour or two, and not really caring about it.

Blaine's breath was slowing down when Kurt leaned in, burying his fingers in his thick curls and pressing his lips to his temple. Blaine made a little noise, barely conscious.

"This is it for me too," Kurt murmured into his skin, and it didn't matter if Blaine heard him or not.

Kurt was pretty sure he already knew it.


	29. Epilogue

FIVE YEARS LATER.

There were a lot of scary things: the monster under his bed, the EpiPen, spiders, the crazy man from the subway who was always screaming about Jesus, the look on Uncle Blaine's face when he decided to explore the supermarket on his own and then couldn't find his way back to him, that cartoon about the skeleton who loved Christmas, and the old lady who lived in the apartment across the hall, who always smelled like cabbage and liked to tickle him whenever she saw him.

But the scariest thing of all, Max thought, was this.

He stood in front of the building and looked at all the children rushing inside, backpacks swinging behind them, yelling for their friends, waving back at the parents who wished them a good start. It was crowded, and usually Max didn't like crowded places. He wished he could have stayed home. He had had a lot of fun during summer break, visiting Carole and going to the park. Uncle Blaine had taught him to ride a bike, and Uncle Kurt had taken him to the movies, and everything had been so nice. Why did school have to ruin everything?

A hand settled on his shoulder, and he turned to find Uncle Kurt kneeling in front of him. He looked concerned, and he must have truly been, because he was risking staining his pants. Uncle Kurt's clothes were always spotless and so fancy.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" He asked.

Max looked into his blue eyes. For a while, he had thought his own eyes were blue because of Uncle Kurt's, they just looked so similar. But then Uncle Blaine had said he had gotten them from his Daddy instead, and now Max really liked staring at his Daddy's eyes in every picture he could find.

"Can we go home? I don't like it here," he replied, shyly.

"But if you go home, you'll leave Lola all alone on her first day, too," Uncle Kurt said with a little smile. "You don't want her to be sad, do you?"

"No," Max admitted. He liked Lola. She was fun to play with and knew all the words to his favorite Disney songs.

"I know it looks scary," Uncle Kurt said, putting his hand against Max's soft cheek. "But I promise it won't be so bad. You'll learn a lot of cool stuff here, and you can make new friends, too, if you want to."

Uncle Blaine leaned down next to Uncle Kurt, his hand on the small of his husband's back for support, and smiled at Max encouragingly. "You liked kindergarten and preschool, right?" He said. "This will be like that, but for big kids. You're a big boy now, Max, so you need to start school."

Max looked over his shoulder, apprehensively, to where all the kids were being annoyingly loud and running up the steps towards the entrance. "What if someone's mean to me?"

Uncle Blaine's eyebrows got all frowny. "Then you immediately tell your teacher, and then you tell us when you get home. But I'm sure everything will be fine, Max. And if it isn't, we'll deal with it when we have to. But don't let this ruin your first day. Don't worry about things that you don't even know will happen."

"I'm going to tell you something my Dad told me once," Uncle Kurt said, looking right into his eyes. "You're a great kid, and whoever doesn't think so isn't worth your time."

Uncle Blaine smiled at him, and Max watched them. They got like that sometimes, looking at each other like they didn't remember there were other people in the world. "Exactly."

Max nodded very slowly. Uncle Kurt was always right. He would probably be right this time, too. "And you'll pick me up right after?"

"Yes," Uncle Blaine said, not doubting for a second. "Uncle Kurt will be at work, but I'll be here. We can go for an ice cream and celebrate your first day. How does that sound?"

"Okay," he agreed. Uncle Kurt gave him his Batman backpack. They had let him choose it, and he loved it. He slipped it on.

"We're proud of you," Uncle Blaine said, and that made Max feel all tingly and warm.

"And we love you," Uncle Kurt added, pulling him in for a quick hug and a kiss. "I'll see you tonight. You can tell me all about your first day during dinner. I can make your favorite, mac and cheese."

"Yay!" Max said excitedly, and Uncle Kurt laughed as he stood up.

Uncle Blaine pulled him in for a hug. "I can't believe how big you are. You'll do great, kiddo. Good luck."

Uncle Blaine was hugging him super tight. He did that sometimes, when he seemed upset or he had a bad day, or when they talked about his Daddy. Max hugged him back, because that usually made him smile again.

"Max!" A little voice said, not far from them. He turned and saw Lola, waving at him from the steps. "Let's go!"

"I'm coming!" He said. He smiled at them, and then ran after his best friend.

He turned back and looked at them one last time when he got to the entrance. They were still there, holding hands and watching him, smiling, even though it looked like Uncle Blaine was crying too. Max waved at them, and then followed Lola into the school.

Underneath all the fear he felt, he realized he was also excited. Maybe school wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand and turned to him once Max had gone inside the building. There were a few tears in his husband's eyes, and he reached up to dry them carefully.

"He'll be fine. He's the toughest kid I know," Kurt said.

Blaine nodded. "I know. He's just so big… where did time go?"

They began to walk away, hand in hand, towards the avenue. Blaine had a class to get to, and Kurt was expected at the office for a meeting. He was still in Vogue, had gotten a promotion recently, and loved every second he spent working there. He had also started his own collection, which he sold online. They were unique pieces, and he never made two that were alike. That was the prerogative of KH, his little brand that was slowly getting noticed.

"I don't know," Kurt sighed wistfully. "But sometimes I really miss holding him in my arms, and watching him learn all the little things. Remember when he first started walking? And when he started talking? And now he's in first grade…"

"God, me too," Blaine said, as they stopped at the corner to wait for a red light. He leaned his head on Kurt's shoulder for a moment. "Sometimes I think I should have appreciated the little things more. I think I even miss changing his diapers."

They laughed and crossed the street, still hand in hand. They were supposed to walk in separate directions now, Blaine towards campus and Kurt to Condé Nast. Blaine gave him a quick peck on the lips goodbye and made to turn away, but Kurt pulled at his hand. There was a puzzled look on his face.

"Why don't we have one?"

Blaine blinked at him in confusion. "Have what? Coffee? I don't have time. My lecture starts in…"

"No, no," Kurt said, stepping closer to him to avoid being pushed by a hurried man in a suit. "A baby."

"A baby?" Blaine repeated, like he had never heard that word before.

"Yeah," Kurt shrugged, thoughtfully. "I've been sort of toying with the idea since Rachel got pregnant. Seeing her and Jesse go through all that excitement together… it makes me wonder if maybe we should give it a shot. I mean we are pretty amazing with kids…"

"There's no doubt of that," Blaine said, but he still looked pretty stunned. "Are you sure?"

"I am," Kurt nodded. "Unless you don't want to, or you prefer to wait. I know you're worried about getting that tenure spot at work, but… I don't know. I think we should at least talk about it."

Blaine cupped Kurt's face in his hands and kissed him a little more fiercely than they used to when they were in public. "We're _so_ talking about it. And I wish we had time to actually talk about it now, but I _am_ trying to look good because I want that tenure…"

Kurt laughed and kissed him back. "Go, you crazy old man."

"A crazy old man you want to have a baby with?" Blaine teased, grinning so hard his face almost split in two.

"Oh Blaine Hummel-Anderson," Kurt sighed, as he arranged Blaine's bowtie. "I would have a million babies with you."

Blaine chuckled. "Let's start with one and then we'll see how it goes, okay?"

"Deal," Kurt winked at him, and then they turned to head to work. Just before he turned the corner, Kurt looked over his shoulder, and saw Blaine was also looking back at him, before he got lost among the busy New York pedestrians, all heading in different directions.

Kurt would be eternally grateful that he and Blaine always seemed to be heading in the same one.

Smiling to himself, Kurt crossed the street and let Manhattan guide him away.


End file.
